


Don't Touch My Brother

by morgana07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morgana07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Dean's away, someone makes the mistake of grabbing Sam. Angry & upset, Dean forgets the danger in order to find him but is then confronted with not only the threat of the enemy but also the elements when he finds himself with very few options in getting Sam help in time. Will it be too late? Even after returning Sam's soul, will Dean still lose his brother?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based in S6, between 06x15: The French Mistake and 06x16: And Then There Were None.
> 
> I'll do warnings per chapter if one contains serious violence or anything but even then I try not to be too graphic. Please read and enjoy. Thanks.

** Minnesota, somewhere inside the Chippewa National Forest: **

"You hang on! You hear me? You just hang on and stay with me! Sammy, c'mon, just a little longer. Just stay with me a little longer.”

Dean Winchester's emotions in the past three days had been on a roller coaster and right now he felt as if he was in a freefall that just wouldn't end.

"…s'cold, De'n," the whisper quiet voice was slurred, barely audible and only heard because Dean was so close. "…hurts."

"I know it is, little brother, I know," Dean quickly pulled his green military style jacket off to give to Sam since he hadn't been able to salvage his brother's shirt and he knew the shock his brother was in was almost as big an issue as all the numerous injuries his brother had sustained. "Stay still, little brother. Just stay with me and I'll get you outta here."

Physically exhausted and emotionally drained, Dean struggled to keep his already strained voice from breaking as he looked around at their surroundings.

They were still too far away from where he'd left the Impala and too far into the forest for cell service even if Dean could've explained what the hell was happening without getting himself arrested.

Glancing down, he took another much closer look at Sam and once again felt his blood boil at what he saw and even more at what he couldn't.

Being careful, he gently nudged the younger Winchester until he heard a groan and a slurred 'leave me alone' and just wished he could.

"You have a head wound, Sam. I need you to stay awake until I get you help then you can sleep," Dean replied, ripping a piece off his shirt to use it to wipe away new blood that had pooled on Sam's pale, swelled, and battered face. "Can you talk to me, little brother?"

"…hurts…to talk," Sam mumbled, just wanting to either curl up someplace dark or sleep. "Sleep."

Gripping the wrist closest to him, Dean heard the cry of pain and muttered an apology but frowned at the skipping pulse before noticing that Sam's breathing was becoming more shallow.

"Sammy, c'mon, we need to move," he doubted if this was even possible even before Sam's head shook weakly in protest.

Under normal circumstances and once upon a time in a situation like this, Dean would've just tried to carry his brother back to the Impala or to get the help he clearly needed.

However that was before his brother shot to four inches taller than Dean and put on muscle that in Dean's current shape made physically moving his seriously injured brother anywhere impossible.

" _Sonuvabitch_ ," he cursed under his breath, feeling Sam try to grip his hand weakly and knew his brother was scared. "It's okay, Sammy. I'm here and you're gonna be fine," he promised, hoping that wasn't a lie.

Dean knew the basic scope of Sam's injuries and knew surviving long without any medical help was nearly impossible while his own couple wounds would make keeping Sam alive if they stayed still more difficult.

Used to dealing with the casual wounds either one of them would get on a basic hunt was something that Dean knew he could've done. Hell, he'd been nursing Sam back to health in one form or another since the first time the kid had gone an actual hunt and came back with three cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a lump on the side of his head.

They'd both been hurt seriously at one time or another in their lives but these wounds…these were different and Dean knew it.

His pain in the ass little brother that he'd just barely gotten back after having Death return the soul that Sam had been without for so long hadn't gotten hurt on a hunt for anything supernatural.

No, Sam had been hurt by the type of enemy that they Dad hadn't taught them could often be worse than demons, spirits, or goblins. Though as Dean knew well regular people were often more complicated and deranged than demons.

Shifting the jacket a little to look showed Dean that many of the deep cuts and welts on Sam's chest and arms were still bleeding which told him the ones on his back would be the same way.

The little burns were red and swollen but it was the more intense ones, the deeper ones in the form of damn inverted pentagrams that worried him since these were bloody and were already oozing infection.

Sam's face was bloody with one side more swelled than the other and Dean didn't need a medical degree to know by the gash at Sam's hairline that his brother had some form of concussion so letting him sleep was a danger but without any real type of pain meds to combat the other wounds, he hoped even a small amount of sleep would help him ignore the pain.

The alarm bells began going off again with the first cough and Sam began choking. Quickly rolling him onto the side that didn't have a clearly dislocated shoulder and broken arm, Dean felt his stomach twist at the first sign of blood coming from Sam's mouth which said the brutal beatings Sam had gone through for the past 24 hours had left him with internal bleeding.

"Shit, shit, shit!" this time the curse was loud and vocal as he struggled to sit Sam up without causing him more pain but knew this was also a near impossibility. "Sam! Wake up!" he needed the kid awake, if for no other reason than to keep him from choking on his own blood. "Sammy! I am so grounding your ass if you do this to me!"

Perhaps it was the near panic in Dean's voice that brought Sam Winchester around a little more, he wasn't sure. Sam's only had two real solid thoughts right then.

He was in pure agony and wanted to just curl up to forget the past few days and the second thing was his normally rock steady, nothing ever scared big brother's voice was shaking in a tone that Sam rarely heard.

It was this last thing that made him struggle to open the eye that wasn't swelled shut to try to focus on Dean but found his vision swimming and spitting blood. The last explained Dean's tone.

"De'n?" gasping as pain reminded Sam that he didn't want to be sitting up because of the internal wounds and probably a full set of broken ribs, he didn't have the strength to stay sitting and let himself lean against the strong shoulder that he knew would always be there to support him. "Bad?"

The dropped letter in his name and the single word responses warned Dean that Sam was getting worse but a look at his own bleeding shoulder said that he wouldn't be able to move Sam more than a few feet if that.

Also, the older Winchester knew trying to move his brother would more than likely do more harm than good since Sam couldn't stand up on his right leg which Dean prayed hadn't been broken too seriously but knew the knee was shattered.

He also tried to avoid thinking what other injuries his brother had that he couldn't see past the ripped, torn, blood stained jeans.

"No, you're not that bad," Dean bit his tongue on that lie but knew it was time to fallback on his age old response to a badly hurt and frightened kid brother.

He'd lie through his teeth and fight to pretend he was calm in order to keep Sam calm even while inside Dean was breaking with the knowledge that his brother was dying and he was helpless to stop it. "Just…close your eyes for a little while longer then we'll…get going."

A small piece of Sam suspected his brother was covering how badly he was hurt but he was so cold and in too much pain to argue, barely feeling the material of the jacket as it was carefully arranged around him and wishing for the more comforting feel of the old battered leather jacket of their Dad's that Dean had always worn.

It hadn't occurred to Sam that he hadn't seen that jacket and wondered if he had in any of the time that was still blank to him. He tried to remind himself to ask Dean about it once they were safe and he could talk without his whole face wanting to explode in pain.

"…cold," he mumbled again, hating to be cold since it often reminded him too much of being a kid in either a ratty motel or the back of the 1967 Chevy Impala that was still home to him. "Turn…the heater…on, De'n,"

The soft voice, slurred with pain and shock, warned Dean even before the words registered that Sam's mind was going back to another time, another place and considering how fragile that damn wall in his head was that added another level to Dean's worry.

Struggling to keep his own voice level, he eased his injured shoulder up so he could move his arm around Sam for both support and to hopefully allow his brother to get some warmth. "Yeah, I will in a minute, Sammy," he replied, trying to clear his own suddenly blurry vision of the tears that wanted to come but he fought against.

Noticing that Sam's fingers were absently switching from either reaching for the small golden amulet that Dean had once worn and foolishly tossed away to trying to play with the black rubber bracelet that Sam had taken to wearing again after getting his soul back but had been stripped from him by the assholes who'd started this mess.

Silently but bitterly berating himself for reacting in his usual fashion of get pissed off and jump into the lit frying pan without any thought of how to get back out, Dean knew Bobby had been right and he should've waited for him and Rufus but the rage, hate, and fear for Sam had been the overruling emotions.

Now as he sat in a national forest in Minnesota with a bullet hole in his shoulder, a cracked rib and a badly injured little brother he watched the sun begin get lower and knew Sam would never survive a night out here and suddenly felt so tired.

"Damn it," he muttered, feeling Sam shift in pain and move to get closer much like he would when they'd been kids in the back of the Impala. "I'll get you outta here, Sammy," he promised, carding shaking fingers back through Sam's hair and felt sticky blood from another gash in Sam's head. "I'll make this right."

Knowing that Sam probably didn't here him left Dean alone with his own dark thoughts and as his own body began to feel the effects of injuries and exhaustion he thought back to how this nightmare started…

 

** Flashback, Seventy Two Hours Earlier ** **:**

"Remind me again why the hell I got shipped out to help you?" Dean shot the older black man who was riding shotgun in the Impala a sour look. "Better yet, remind me why the hell I didn't let you take that vamp nest on by yourself since you didn't listen to me in the first place?"

Rufus Turner, a longtime hunter and semi-acquaintance of Dean and his younger brother, Sam, was casually flipping through a box of old cassette tapes he'd found on the floor, pretended to concentrate on the tapes rather than the annoyed hunter beside him.

"I think you're solo because you refused to let your brother come with you. Bobby said you flat out said Sam was not allowed to hunt vampires right now," he finally replied, knowing the boy was annoyed and frustrated but also knew Dean's emotions weren't all due to the vamp nest they'd just wiped out. "As for the rest? I think Bobby used two words on you…Gordon Walker."

Fingers tightening on the steering wheel at the mere mention of the former hunter who had become obsessed with killing Dean's little brother and that was even before he got turned into a damn vampire.

"Gordon was scary enough as a vamp…you'd be three times more annoying," Dean muttered sourly, glancing down at the dashboard to see that he was pushing the Impala a closer to seventy than he thought was safe even though it was a little past three in the morning on the deserted highway heading back to Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

"That boy was way too intense for his own good," Rufus decided, wondering if Bobby had any good liquor that he was hoarding since he'd already decided he was sticking around until Bobby spilled what it was that was making Dean so adamant about Sam not hunting vampires.

"You have no idea," Dean sighed, feeling like crap and just wanting a chance to get back to Bobby's, check on Sam, take a shower, find food then sleep like the dead for at least sixteen hours…unless Sam needed him.

Leaving Sam with Bobby hadn't been Dean's first choice since he was well aware that Bobby was still a little leery around Sam, which was also something Dean understood since while without a soul his usually friendly, over-emotional baby brother had tried to kill a man who was like a father to them.

Sam, ever since Castiel opened his big mouth about Sam's time without a soul, was also wary with Bobby. So that left Dean in the middle of a very touchy situation.

There was also the subject of the wall that Death put up in Sam mind to shield his sanity. Sam had already had one collapse from a crack in that thing so when the call about a vampire nest two states over had come; Dean had refused to allow Sam to come.

The one thing that Dean had firmly not wanted Sam to ever learn about was the night that Sam had allowed a vampire to turn Dean into one. That memory had been among those that Cas had blabbed about so Sam was guilt tripping big time.

Sam hadn't liked the idea of staying behind but Dean had pulled the big brother card and vetoed all of Sam's objections. Sure, he'd gotten the mother-of-all bitch faces in return but in Dean's mind, there was no way in Hell that he was letting Sam near a nest of vampires until he was certain how strong that wall really was.

"So, you wanna come clean to what you and Sam're up to that's got Bobby acting so squirrelly?" Rufus slid a look over and wasn't surprised by the guarded expression that came down over Dean's rugged features.

"Nope," Dean replied in the tone he used when a subject was closed.

He trusted Rufus as much as he trusted anyone but since this was about Sam, he wasn't willing to go that far with anyone but Bobby and then there were things that he didn't always like telling Bobby.

Rufus was about to make another comment to just get under the kid's skin when Dean's cell phone began ringing. "Damn, that old junk man always check up on you this much?" he rolled his eyes, knowing it was Bobby since his long time friend had called six times since Dean had joined up with him.

"Only when he's babysitting Sammy," Dean smirked, keying the phone to speaker since he figured it was just Bobby demanding an update or maybe Sam since he hadn't gotten around to replacing his brother's phone after he'd accidentally on purpose broke it. "Yeah, it's me and we'll be there around seven so have food or…"

"Dean…" the tone in Bobby's voice was what stopped Dean's words since it was odd for the older hunter to sound out of breath, much less in pain.

Then there was the sounds of an outraged Sheriff Jodi Mills in the background demanding that Bobby hold still so she could finish checking his head.

Seeing that Rufus had also become more serious, Dean had begun to frown and ask what the hell was going on when Bobby's next three words threw his world into a tailspin.

"They've got Sam."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some minor violence in this one, Mainly descriptive, nothing too serious but I just wanted to post a heads up. Thanks.

** Bobby Singer’s House, Sioux Falls, SD, Earlier): **

“Would you hold still and stop pacing?” Sheriff Jodi Mills stood in what she could only assume was Bobby Singer’s living room with both hands on her hips as she watched the disgruntled junkman/hunter prowl his house while swearing up a storm. “Bobby! You’ve been over this place six times since I got here. I’ve been over it. There’s nothing to find.”

“Stupid, moronic, sons of bitches!” Bobby’s head was throbbing, his ribs ached and he was pissed. In his opinion, pacing was a better option than what he really wanted to do. “They were stupid jackasses before this but this stunt just upped their stupidity level.

“Coming onto my property, pretty much breaking my damn door, hitting me in the head after trying to shoot me didn’t work then probably breaking a rib is one thing, damn it!” he ranted, stalking back into the library/office. “But coming in here, shooting up my place and nailing Sam? Hell, no! I can barely control that idjit brother of his on good days, much less over…balls.”

Blinking at the near groan that accompanied the last word, Sheriff Mills was about to ask what was wrong when she got that answer in the form of a plainly enraged, more than slightly pissed off Dean Winchester as he made the run from where he’d slammed the Impala into park to the house in less than six running steps.

“What the hell happened? Who the hell hit this place? How’d they get past your so-called security? Who the hell do I feed their lungs to? But more importantly, Bobby, where in the goddamn Hell is my little brother?” he demanded.

“Dean, calm down and…” Bobby began, wincing as a stack of books hit the floor when in a rare actual fit of anger the elder Winchester shoved them off a side table. “Guess calm’s not gonna happen.”

Rufus Turner stepped in after taking a close look at the barely hanging front door, then examined the evidence of weapons being discharged in the house before eyeing his longtime friend with a critical eye. “Calm? Bobby, this boy ain’t seen calm since you called him and I highly doubt if he’ll see it again until either we find Sam or someone knocks him out.”

“‘ _They’ve got Sam_ ,’” had been all it took to make Dean care less about speed limits, state patrol cruisers or anything else except getting back to Sioux Falls, getting to Bobby’s house and finding out who the hell had made the absolute last mistake of their worthless miserable lives by touching his brother.

Growing up, there had been a set of rules that Dean liked to say he lived by or the _Dean Winchester Rulebook_ as Caleb had liked to call them. It had started out small and as he grew the rules expanded.

However, no matter how old he got, or what happened in his life the first rule in that so-called rulebook had always and will always remain the same: Anyone who touched, hurt, scared, or bullied Dean’s little brother would end up in a world hurt because no one hurt Sam without expecting to face his pissed off big brother.

Dean accepted that for the last couple years he and Sam had been having issues. There were still things that they needed to face, to get over, but no matter what Sam was still his brother. He was still, in Dean’s heart, the six-month old chubby baby he carried out of a burning house and swore to protect.

After dealing with Sam’s soulless self for the past few months, it had been good to see actual emotion in Sam’s eyes again the morning he woke up ten days after having that soul replaced along with a fragile wall in his mind.

“Where’s Sam?” he demanded, not even aware that his tone had dropped to one very few had ever heard him use before…especially not Bobby. “Damn it, Bobby! Who the hell did this?”

Catching Rufus’s look over Dean’s head, Bobby got the idea of how loose Dean’s temper was right then which was why he was hesitant in telling the boy anything.

An angry, pissed off Dean Winchester was one thing to handle…but a furious, hate filled, and pissed off Dean was even worse and Bobby knew the second he told him who attacked and kidnapped Sam what would happen.

“Dean, just sit down a second and…Dean!” Bobby stopped being reasonable the second another stack of books was shoved to his already cluttered floor and the boy took two steps toward him with a look in green eyes that Bobby had never seen before, not even the time Sam had been stabbed in Cold Oak.

The sound of a pistol being cocked slowed Dean down, the sight of the service revolver aimed at his heart made him pause but the fact that Jodi Mills had put herself between Bobby and Dean made him finally stop to glare, his fingers itching to disarm the Sheriff if only to get the answers he needed but the very serious glare she shot him suggested that idea wouldn’t be wise.

“Alright, handsome, you take a step back and curb the attitude before I put your cocky butt down and in cuffs,” she warned in the no nonsense tone she used on the most drunken men in town, ignoring the sputtering that Bobby was doing behind her and the amused smirk Rufus was showing.

“You settle down and listen to Bobby or I’ll haul your ass into town on charges of threatening the elderly and deranged, probably breaking the speed limit from here to Timbuktu and a few hundred weapon charges,” Jodi finished, arching one fine eyebrow curiously. “Now, you ready to listen or not?”

While Bobby had known Dean longer, Rufus did have a small clue how dangerous this young man could be and how easy it would be for him to disarm the Sheriff. Knowing this, he eyed Bobby as if waiting for some signal to knock the over reactive hunter in the head or something.

For a brief moment Dean did look like he might try to do just that then just as quickly as it looked like he’d go for the weapon aimed at him, he slowly stepped back with his hands raised as if showing he meant no harm. “Fine,” he let out a slow breath that really didn’t do anything to help calm him down. “Just tell me who grabbed Sam.”

 Grateful that some of the tension in the room had lessened but silently reminding himself to tell the lady Sheriff that aiming a gun at Dean at any time is a poor choice…but especially when he’s seething with rage, Bobby stepped forward to carefully lay a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

To most people the gesture might have been taken as a comforting one. Only those in the know would have understood how easy Bobby cold turn that simple move into a firm grip since he had no doubt that Dean would be off and running the moment he told him this.

“Sam had just gotten back from town and…”

“You let him go into town by _himself_?” Dean knew if he still wasn’t running on pure anger this news would’ve sent him off anyway. “ _Hel-lo_? That wall in his head has already put him down once and he’s still getting over crap! That’s why I left him here!”

Reminding himself that Dean was under a lot of stress, Bobby refused the urge to slap him but didn’t deny Rufus the pleasure when the other hunter gave a not so light slap to the back of Dean’s head.

“You two idjits eat me out of house and home when you’re feeling good. It’s worse when one of you is sick or sulking and Sam had pretty much cleaned me out of stuff so I stuck him with grocery detail,” Bobby snapped, then shook his head carefully. “I’d been doing some research on stuff…and figuring out a why to pay for your latest stunt…King Arthur, when I heard him come back and was going to help when all hell broke loose.

“I don’t know if they’d been staking this place out since it’s no big secret you boys stay with me when you’re up this way or what but Sam was in the kitchen when the first shotgun blast hit the door,” Bobby’s scowl was plain since he took security of his home seriously and to have it broken so openly was a sin in his book.

Watching as Dean took in the door, Bobby knew the boy was running the possible scenarios through in his head and saw the way that muscle in Dean’s jaw began to twitch that his temper was spiking again.

“I was yelling at Sam to get the hell downstairs and stay there when the first shot came through and nearly took me out,” he fingered the hole in his battered old truckers cap and where Dean’s eyes just narrowed more, Rufus blew out a disgusted breath.

“They actually got a shot in at you? Damn, you must be getting to old for this job, Bobby,” he remarked lightly but he was taking this more seriously since Bobby was still a friend.

“Shut up you old fool,” Bobby growled, still watching Dean as he knelt down to examine something by the steps leading upstairs then he took the steps two at a time. “Dean! Damn it.”

Jodi Mills, who had been upstairs after patching Bobby up, knew the mess Dean was about to find but not understanding why the damage had been done when they all heard the loud and very vocal swearing.

“They missed me with the gun but I didn’t dodge the damn rifle butt in time and went down hard,” Bobby wasn’t happy with the fact that he’d been taken by surprise in his own home and by two morons who really should have been ate by a monster by now. “Couple of those and a few kicks with a steel toed boot and all I heard was Sam shouting, another shot then…” he looked up to see Dean returning downstairs. “Dean?”

“Then what?” he asked tightly, something clenched in his fist but he wasn’t looking at any of them. “What did you hear, Bobby?”

“I heard Sam fightin’ then heard…him yell but he was still fightin’ as they dragged him outta here,” Bobby took a deep breath before adding the rest. “I took another couple kicks and another butt to the head then I was out. When I came to, the Sheriff was here and I called you. 

“Dean…I’m sorry, I shoulda…” he shrugged, not knowing what to say to this since he still had to tell the boy the worst part. 

Waving that away, Dean knew his brother and knew that Sam wouldn’t have left Bobby to face who knew what on his own but something told Dean that it wasn’t Bobby that was the prime topic of this attack. “They trashed our room,” he was quiet as he said this, fingers clenched tight.

“Both duffels dumped out, clothes ripped or cut. Seems pretty personal for just a random snatch and grab. Hell, even if it was Campbells this still seems a bit extreme,” voice tight, green eyes slowly lifted to allow the small gold amulet to dangle from his hand. “How long has he had this, Bobby?”

The amulet was something that Sam had given to his brother one Christmas when they’d been kids. Bobby remembered giving it to Sam as a gift for John but the next time he’d seen it, Dean was wearing it. He hadn’t asked either boy about it but he also knew that supposedly Dean had tossed the amulet away more than a year ago.

“I didn’t know he did, Dean,” he replied, knowing he was out of time when Dean stared at the amulet again before slipping it into his pocket. “Dean…”

“We have enemies, you have enemies…Hell, Sam probably has more enemies from the time he’s spent playing Terminator with Samuel and the Soup kids but very few of those would do what I saw upstairs or make it a point to take you out, leave you alive but grab Sam,” Dean was tense, his voice dropping to the low, more gruff one he used when he was more emotional than he was comfortable with showing or he was angry. “Now…tell me, who the hell grabbed my brother?”

Exchanging glances with Rufus and Jodi, Bobby wondered if he could get Dean to hand over his Colt but knew that was probably even more stupid than asking him to calm down. “Walt and Roy.”

Dead silence might’ve filled the room but in Dean’s ears all he could hear was a mixture of rushing air which he assumed was the sound of his heart thudding after it had gotten done dropping to his feet and back again in addition to the sound of a shotgun firing.

Bright flashes of memory and sound brought it back to Dean with just the mere mention of those names. It was a depressed time in both of their lives as they struggled to stop the Apocalypse without becoming vessels to two warring Archangels.

Waking up to find two masked me in the motel room, realizing he actually knew the two sons of bitches and then hearing the first blast go off and watching it hit his little brother.

Dean recalled very clearly the promise he’d made Walt before that damn gun went off again and soon he and Sam were running for their lives through what was supposed to be Heaven…Dean wasn’t so sure what it had been now.

He did know that what he’d seen had made him doubt his brother even more and it was those doubts among so many others that made him toss the amulet in the trash can of that motel. 

Things had gotten a little crazy and he’d been a little distracted as of late to keep that promise. Now it looked like the stupid son of a bitch was giving him another reason to because there were no ifs, ends, or buts in Dean’s mind.

Walt and his sidekick had thought pissing Dean off once by just shooting Sam wasn’t anything? Now they’d learn that by actually coming after his brother again they’d get to see another side of Dean that no one, at least no one living, had ever seen.

So focused on the red film of rage that name had caused, Dean didn’t seem to realize his name was being called until fingers snapped in front of his eyes and his phone began buzzing all at the same time.

“That kid breathing, Bobby?” Rufus wondered, leaning against the wall going into the library while Jodi Mills shook her head after snapping her fingers several times until Dean shook his head and with a snarl grabbed his phone while shooting Bobby a look that said their talk wasn’t over yet. “Hey, Bobby? Who, besides you or me, should have his number?”

“Balls!” Bobby groaned, hoping this wasn’t the call he feared it would be but knew the second Dean’s face went blank then hard and his fingers clenched around the phone that he was wrong. “Damn jackass.”

“Talk to me,” Dean snapped, not in the mood for whoever this might be and nearly hung up until he heard the voice on the other end.

“Hey, Winchester, how’s it been since I loaded your chest full of buckshot? Guess maybe your little brother here isn’t the only freak in your family, huh?”

Jaw clenching, fingers of the hand not holding his phone flexing into a fist that Dean just wished he could slam into the smug, sneering face of the son of a bitch on his phone.

“Walt,” he gritted, turning away from those assembled because he didn’t feel like making Bobby watch him destroy more of his house. “You do realize that you and Roy are dead men the second I get to you, right?”

The loud laughter told Dean the ex-hunter or whatever he was these days was already six sheets to the wind and that put Sam in even more danger. “You and your promises, Dean,” he mocked, glancing down with a smirk. “The old man give you my message yet?”

“What message?” Dean demanded, turning to glare at Bobby then struggled to refocus on the phone. “Why’re you doing this, Walt?” he asked, not really getting that. “You know damn good and well that I’ll kill you for this crap. You’d slipped under my radar from before but not now. Let Sam go and maybe I won’t rip your heart out and feed it to you.”

“Pretty colorful, isn’t he?” Jodi asked softly but as Bobby merely coughed she wondered just how much of the young hunter’s words were threats and how much he really could do if he set his mind to it.

“Can’t do that, hotshot,” Walt replied, running his finger over the switch of the device in his hand but didn’t ignite the taser yet. “Sure, this is personal since I still think your brother is a freak of nature. How either of you came back after I shot you before is something I’ll figure out one day but it’s also makin’ me and Roy a load of money since some old man wants you to hurt something fierce.”

The rage that had been building toward Roy and Walt just expanded to include Samuel Campbell since Dean knew in his heart who Walt was talking about.

Only their maternal grandfather held Dean and Sam in such contempt that he’d pay someone to kidnap and probably torture one of his own daughter’s sons.

“Don’t touch my brother, Walt,” Dean warned firmly, swearing to rip the man’s face off for the grating laugh just went straight through him. “Let me talk to Sam,” he needed this if for no other reason than to reassure himself that his little brother was still alive. “Put him on the damn phone, Walt!”

Pausing for a couple beats just because he knew it would make Dean more agitated, Walt knelt down in the back of the battered van that Roy was driving and gave a swift slap after yanking the gag down to hold the phone out. “Talk to your brother, freak.”

Sam Winchester had been drifting in and out of consciousness since he’d finally gone down to the ground at Bobby’s. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed or where they were since his eyes were still covered but could tell the van was moving.

Trying to talk was hard since his mouth and lips were dry due to the gag and the drug he knew he’d been given but after a second more insistent slap and a click told him the phone had been put on speaker, Sam heard his brother’s strong voice calling Walt every name he knew and some Sam knew Dean had just made up.

“…Dean…”

The halting voice on the other end of his phone stopped the tirade of cursing and name calling Dean had just been doing much more effectively than the slaps to the head from Bobby or motherly eye rolling of Sheriff Mills.

Making himself take a deep breath to level his voice, Dean went to step away only to have Bobby push him to sit on the sofa seat in the library.

“Hey, little brother,” he murmured, not having a clue what to say in reassurance then just went with his gut. “You okay?”

“Been better,” Sam admitted, hearing something like crackling but couldn’t place it right then. “Dean?”

“I’m getting you back, Sammy. Just hang on for a little while and tell Walt what to do with himself,” hoping to encourage Sam since he’d heard the small shake in his brother’s voice, Dean hoped it was from whatever beating he’d taken so far and nothing more serious. “I’ll be there.”

Sam knew from what little he’d been told of his time as Robo-Sam that that side of him would’ve dealt with this all alone and not even feel the need to want his brother.

However, that side was gone and Sam was back in control of himself. He understood Dean’s concerns about the wall in his mind falling and so was Sam but right then, he had bigger concerns and those concerns were making him want his brother beside him more than he has in years.

He also knew that he couldn’t let Dean come after him. “No,” he whispered, glad the blindfold would hide the tears he knew were in his eyes. “Dean…stay away.”

“Come again,” Dean had heard his brother fine then guessed why Sam was doing, feeling his fingers reach into his pocket to touch the amulet. “Sammy…”

“It’s you he wants. Dean, stay…argh!” Sam cut off with a scream as a taser was jammed into his kidneys and he heard his brother shouting but could also gasp as the gag was shoved back in and a heavy fist slammed into his head again, drifting consciousness away again.

“Sammy!” Dean yelled, shooting to his feet only to have Bobby and Rufus restrain him from bolting out of the house. “Damn it! Walt! You son of a bitch, don’t touch him!” he growled, the agony and fear in Sam’s voice tearing at his heart while the rage and hate building was threatening to let loose something he’d buried since his return from Hell.

The laughing, mocking voice came back on the phone. “You’re brother’s more stupid than he looks for telling you that. Guess Roy and I’ll have some nice fun with him while you’re wondering just what it is I am doing to him,” Walt sneered then laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. When I’m done with him I’ll give you a call and we can catch up on old times. Ciao, Dean.”

“Walt, you do not touch my brother or I’ll… _sonuvabitch_!”  Dean finally pushed past Bobby and Rufus only to whirl back. “What message?” he demanded, thrusting his phone out as he added hotly. “Bobby, that was my little brother that bastard just made scream like that! I haven’t heard Sam sound like that in…ever. Now what the hell did Walt say to you?”

Bobby and the others in the room had only heard the feedback of Sam’s scream over Dean’s phone but he could tell by the open pain on Dean’s face and in his eyes that whatever he’d heard was bad. 

“Before the moron kicked me the last time…” he sighed, not understanding the meaning but assuming Dean would. “He said to tell you that if he’d’ve known what pains in the ass you and Sam would be one day he’d’ve made sure neither one of you came out of those hills and that this time if you want to see Sam again you’ll show up alone or this time he will do what he said he would.”

“Really?” Dean wasn’t surprised by that message, in fact he supposed between that and Sam’s warning to stay away he should have expected it. “Well, it’s time Walt figured out that touching my brother is a one way ticket to Hell and Roy can join him if Sam’s hurt too badly.”

The tone worried Bobby because he’d never heard it before but before he could caution the hotheaded Winchester, Dean was booting up Sam’s laptop which was still on the desk. “What the hell are you up to, boy?” he demanded, looking at Rufus and wondering how hard it would be to get the old coot to help out on this one.

“Sam’s still got his watch on or else it’s still somewhere close to him cause I just locked on to it,” Dean was trying to remember how to send the data on the screen to his cell phone then slapped the lid closed. “Now, I’m going to go get my brother back and feed two assholes their lungs for ever touching him,” he finished, knowing he had what he needed in the Impala already and what he didn’t he’d pick up before he got to where he was going.

“Dean! What a damn minute!” Bobby yelled, running after the elder Winchester but knew the second Dean’s hand touched the Impala that there’d be no talking him out of this. “Wait for me and Rufus! Boy, you charge headlong into this and you’re askin’ for trouble!”

Dean wasn’t a total fool. He knew the risks he was taking because he’d taken them before. That time he’d had Caleb along for backup and still it wasn’t a complete cakewalk. This time he’d go in alone against two men, one of which was a total sociopathic douchebag, and just hoped he could get there before Walt’s hatred got Sam hurt too badly.

“I need to get to Sam, Bobby,” he called out the window, fingers tight on the wheel. “Walt doesn’t care. This is more than just about the rumors he’s heard or Samuel paying him. This is personal for him and he’ll hurt Sammy just to get to me. I won’t let that happen.”

As the Impala peeled out of the driveway, Bobby stared at it for a long moment before stomping back inside the house to see that Rufus was taking stock of what weapons Bobby had available while Sheriff Mills was doing something on Sam’s laptop.

“Dean’s going to have a head start but how long would it take you two to get that rust bucket on wheels to Minnesota?” she asked after handing Bobby her GPS tracker. “I have some friends in that area that might help out in a pinch…or at least keep Dean from being arrested.”

Staring at the tracker, Bobby grumbled something about new gadgets while Rufus seemed just as wary until the young woman snatched it back.

“Oh, for God’s sake. What do you two hunt with? Flames and rocks?” she rolled her eyes, waving the tracker. “Dean must have some way to track Sam because this signal just stopped ten minutes ago in the middle of the Chippewa National Forest in Minnesota. Now, you got a plan to help those boys or are we just winging it?”

“We?” Bobby blinked, knowing he could probably get Rufus to help since he owed him for the vampire thing but he hadn’t counted of Jodi involving herself. “This isn’t exactly the type of…”

Expecting that argument, she shook her head while motioning at his house. “Two guys with illegal guns attacked a citizen of my town, shot up his place, and kidnapped a visitor of my jurisdiction…so that makes this my business,” she declared firmly, crossing her arms. “Now, we going?”

“We’ll have time to catch up and I want to place a couple calls to a guy I know in that area,” Bobby hoped he sounded more confident than he felt while wondering just what the hell else happened to those boys that John had never seen fit to tell anyone…if John even knew himself. “Balls.”

“Bobby? Does that mean Dean lojacked Sam?” Rufus asked out of the blue, then shrugged at the muttered growl he got in return. “Well, I guess this might be a bit more interesting than that vampire nest. Bobby, can Dean handle the dynamic duo of morons on his own until we get to him?” he wondered curiously, having seen the boy tackle vamps but wasn’t certain about normal people…though he put Walt on the low side of normal.

“Yeah, that’s not what worries me,” Bobby had looked up the phone number of a man he knew up in that area of Minnesota and hoped he still had favors to call on.

What worried Bobby Singer about Dean going into this on his own was just what Dean was willing to do in order to save Sam and how dark he was willing to go since Bobby had no doubt that in this frame of mind a lot of crap from Dean’s time in Hell just might come back.

** Present Time, Chippewa National Forest, Minnesota: **

“Yeah, real good idea there, genuis,” Dean muttered, forcing his eyes to open and seeing the sun had gone down a lot more than he liked.

A look down told him that Sam had slipped under and he could only hope that his brother was simply sleeping because of the injuries, the shock, and drugs he still had in his system and that he hadn’t gone comatose.

Giving a slight nudge, Dean heard a welcome but soft groan which told him that Sam was still slightly responsive then heard the rattling cough and wanted to pound his head in against the closest tree.

Sam clearly had internal injuries along with broken ribs. The last thing Dean needed to worry about was his little brother’s lungs filling with fluid.

“Hey, Sammy?” he called while trying to move Sam without disturbing him too much or causing him too much pain. “Sammy?”

Never an easy patient at the best of injuries, this time Sam was worse and his tone told Dean he was getting pure bitch face even before Sam finally got out his reply past chattering teeth. “What? Go…’way”

“Yeah, not happening, Geek Boy. Come here,” Dean had been leaning against a tree so he knew his back would be shielded from possible attack so seeing that there was no way he was getting Sam out of the forest right then he could only make do with keeping him alive until daylight came and hopefully…help.

Shifting Sam carefully, he eased him more over so that Sam’s back was leaning against Dean which would prop him up more in order to hopefully keep him from choking.

Feeling Sam tense and knowing that while his brother had several issues, his one main one had always been being held from behind. Normally it wasn’t an issue and Dean only noticed Sam’s reactions getting stronger after he’d been hurt or something happened to bring things back.

Fighting not to tense at seeing it now, Dean took the amulet out of his pocket to place it in Sam’s hand then folded his fingers closed around it. “We are so gonna talk about how long you’ve had this too, Sammy,” he remarked casually, feeling Sam’s one hand grasping his own with a mumble that had Dean biting his lip.

“No, Sammy. Dad’s not gonna be mad at us for being out all night,” he assured his brother, wondering what memory his brother was seeing and wishing he knew what to do or how to fix this. “Cas?” he called quietly, since he wasn’t certain how he’d dealt with things up at the cabin. “Damn it, Cas, answer me.”

Again, their Angel associate failed to appear and once again Dean swore the next time Castiel needed help he was telling him to go jump into a damn vat of Holy Oil.

A coughing fit and a burst of pain brought Sam back a little, tensing at the feel of an arm supporting him before recognizing his brother and guessing things had gotten bad. “Dean?” he strained to squeeze the hand gripping his but failed to feel the little amulet in his palm. “How bad?”

“You’re fine, you’ll be fine, now go to sleep,” Dean made his voice more firm than he felt like but knew Sam wasn’t foolish enough to buy it, especially when he saw his brother’s head drop slightly. “I’m getting you out of here, Sam. You’ll be fine.”

“You…could…go,” Sam murmured, cold and pain making him sleepy and felt the jacket being rearranged over him while Dean gripped his hand tighter much like he would before. “Go, De’n and…”

“I am not leaving you,” Dean refused flatly, not even thinking of that option. “We’ll make it and you’ll be fine,” he could only hope he was right as he once again heard that dreaded rattle in Sam’s lungs. 

“Hey, stay awake a second and I’ll tell you that Sheriff Mills threatened to lock me up for getting in Bobby’s face,” he decided to make small talk in order in order to distract them both while pressing both of Sam’s hands together flat on his chest and covering them both his one of his. “I still think there something going on there but…”

A crack of a foot on a branch caught his attention and the Colt that was close to his other hand was immediately aimed in the general direction. “Of course, you know your awesome big brother could’ve handled that if I didn’t want Bobby to slap me or lecture me or…” he paused again at the sounds of footsteps coming closer.

Dean wasn’t one hundred and fifty percent certain of how he’d left things back at the run down shack of a cabin that he’d found his brother in. If he’d failed to make that last kill shot then he might be facing more than just a possible wolf.

“It’s okay, little brother,” he murmured, feeling his own wound ache but made his eyes focus past the dusky shadows for the threat that every hunter’s sense told him was out there. “No one is touching you again. No one will…mistake, asshole,” he decided, seeing the gun-toting shadow step from the tree line and refusing to take the chance of putting Sam in danger again, pulled the trigger and hoped this time he hit the son of a bitch through the heart.

 

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, what did happen between Dean and Walt? Either this time as he fought to find Sam and before? Who did Dean just shoot at? Is Walt or Roy finally out of the Winchester’s hair? Will Bobby and help find them in time? Will Sam survive? I know, so many questions…so few answers. Update soon. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Also, I apologize for the back and forth stuff but that’s how this story turned out. It looks like for one more chapter it’ll be a present scene then a flashback. I’m trying to keep it from being too jarring. Thank you for your patience.


	3. Chapter 3

** Present time, Chippewa National Forest, Minnesota: **

“Lose the gun, son. You don’t want to make this worse.”

Having shot at the shadow that was stepping from the tree line, Dean swore viciously. The wound in his shoulder had thrown his aim off but he didn’t plan to let that stop him from protecting his brother.

Not certain who was out there but guessing it wasn’t a friend since he didn’t recognize the voice, Dean adjusted aim of his Colt toward where the voice had come from only to discover the stranger was more familiar at using the shadows of the trees as cover.

“ _Sonuvabitch_ ,” he muttered, again kicking himself for not listening to Bobby but knowing it he had’ve waited Sam never would have survived.

Dean had come into the northern part of Minnesota with two goals: the first and most vital was rescuing his kidnapped younger brother and the second was to make the two sons of bitches who’d grabbed him back in South Dakota regret ever touching Sam.

Was Dean proud of how he’d accomplished the last part? No and he was certainly never going to let Sam learn of what happened up there when he’d gotten Walt alone.

Though right then, Dean’s biggest concern was protecting Sam long enough to get him back to the Impala and to a hospital before his wounds killed him and that meant dealing with the asshole in the trees.

“Stay here, Sammy,” he spoke quietly and wondered if Sam could hear him but as Dean went to move from where he’d been sitting supporting his brother he felt Sam’s body give a hard jerk before a violent coughing spasm came on and Sam began to spit up blood. “Shit!”

The sound of a step to his left had the Colt firing in that direction just to buy him time but Dean’s focus had gone straight to Sam who was clearing having difficulty breathing and just by the way Sam’s hazel eyes were blown wide open he could tell his brother had no idea what was happening or why.

“Sammy,” pausing a beat to make a decision, Dean swore violently then chose to take his chances with the unknown to concentrate on Sam. “Hey, little brother, it’s alright. Calm down and focus on me,” he felt Sam’s weak fingers trying to grasp his before falling over to try to curl up against the pain. “Sammy!”

Panic was rearing it’s rare but ugly head since Dean knew something was very wrong and didn’t know what or how to make it right when, laying a protective hand on Sam’s shoulder, he spun on one knee to aim the Colt at the man who’d chosen to get too close while believing he was distracted.

“Drop it,” Dean ordered sternly, voice dropping low and lethal. 

The man did stop but didn’t make an attempt to lower the rifle he carried. “You’re making a mistake,” he told the hunter, noticing the distress the other boy seemed to be in and guessing which of the Winchesters he was dealing with. “Dean, I’m not a threat to your brother.”

Hearing his own name used made Dean shift his body more so he was shielding Sam more since Walt’s mention of a possible Campbell involvement always left him on edge.

The man was probably in his forties. He seemed tall, maybe an inch or two above Dean’s 6’ with bronzed skin that didn’t seem to have come from a machine or a bottle with black hair below his shoulders. Then the man’s style of dress caught his eye and he realized the man was wearing the standard uniform of a Park Ranger.

Not that that made much difference in Dean’s book when he was far past the over protective big brother stage and Sam was fighting to breathe.

“…De’n…help,” Sam was hurting and the break in his normally level voice nearly broke Dean because whenever he heard that tone from his brother or could see fear, pain, or tears in his big hazel eyes it took him back to days when Dean always had the answers or he could always make things right for Sam.

“Hang on, Sam,” Dean urged tightly, squeezing the shoulder his hand was on while slowly lowering his weapon an inch. “Who’re you?” he demanded tightly, his tone of voice leaving no mistake of what he’d do if the Ranger wasn’t what he seemed. “How’d you know my name?”

The man considered these two for a moment then lowered his own weapon but was careful not to take another step since he had no doubts that this boy would kill to protect his brother. “I’m Tom McClean, a Park Ranger here and…”

“Stupid idjits are damn bound and determined to either drive me to drink or cause me to break my neck!”

“A friend of his,” Tom finished after the clearly disgruntled voice of Bobby Singer interrupted him. “I did tell you to stay behind and I’d find your boys.”

Bobby’s response to that was short and pithy as he hurried out of the trees with a muttering Rufus following closely while Sheriff Jodi Mills trailed last speaking into a walkie-talkie.

“This is Dean. He’d shoot your damn head off before lettin’ you even close to his brother,” Bobby was as sure of this as he was of his own name then he took a better look and began swearing more. “Son of a bitch! How bad is he, how bad are you and why the hell didn’t you wait for us?”

“Bobby, give the kid a chance to answer,” Jodi chided, a quick look told her this wasn’t going to be as simple as what Bobby and Rufus had been planning on. “Your friend at the station said he can send a chopper up if you can find him a place to land,” she held the radio out to the Park Ranger.

Bobby Singer was grumpy, testy, and determined not to show how worried he’d been but one look, a single look told him this situation had just gone into a tailspin. “We ain’t carrying him out, that’s for damn sure,” he told Tom quietly while Jodi worked on getting past Dean. 

A former medic in the Army, Tom could tell without getting close that the younger Winchester was choking on his own blood and while he couldn’t see all the wounds, could surmise he was in bad shape. “I’ll get a chopper but you better have something to deal with the other one cause I don’t want anyone shot.”

Confused, fevered, in shock and in pain, Sam had begun to twist as pain in his midsection nearly made him scream only to gasp when his lungs refused to take air in. Panicking more, his hand reached out blindly only to be caught and held in a firm grasp that he’d always recognize.

“…De’n,” fighting more to see past the haze clouding his eyes, he tasted the blood that he coughed up and just wanted to go someplace warm and sleep but a deep fear told Sam that if he lost contact with his brother that he’d lose him. “Go…home?” he gasped. “…Dad?”

Dean heard Rufus offer a harsh whisper to Bobby who nearly fell in the process of kneeling next to them at Sam’s soft plea while Dean made himself take a breath so he could at least try to keep his voice level while carding fingers he knew weren’t steady back through Sam’s hair only to feel fresh blood again.

“Dad’ll be home soon, Sammy,” he was surprised at how easy those lies still came to him and he also could tell what age frame and memory Sam was in just by the shaky questions. “Caleb went to get Dad…but Bobby’s here.”

Deciding that exploding with the questions that wanted to burst loose wasn’t an option just then, Bobby shot Dean a look, surprised by the expression of honest fear and helplessness he saw in Dean’s green eyes.

Bobby reached out a hand out to move the now blood soaked green military jacket, then bit back a sigh when a hand shot out to block him from touching Sam. “Dean, let me look at him,” he urged, noticing that Dean didn’t look too good himself but figured he or Jodi could deal with that once Sam was stable. “Dean. Just let me see…balls.”

Lifting the jacket once Rufus got Dean’s attention shifted onto him, Bobby’s eyes went wide at the amount of wounds he saw just on Sam’s chest and arms.

“Oh, my God,” Jodi Mills whispered from over his shoulder, her hand going to Bobby’s shoulder before she knelt down. “Why would anyone do this to him?”

Bobby knew the kind but he didn’t think either Walt or Roy were quite capable of this much damage in such a short amount of time or why Walt would even go to the trouble.

It didn’t take a medical degree to know that the younger Winchester was in full shock. The deep burns Bobby finally noticed were infected and fevered which could, if not treated soon, give the boy a good case of blood poisoning on top of everything else he hand and that was just from what Bobby could see.

Going to ease him to one side, Sam’s basic response to the movement was to scream in agony then choke as whatever fluid was building up choked him and only a quick grab by his now fully hovering older brother kept him from making a severe situation a deadly one.“Sammy, stop,” Dean was quick to react, grabbing his now struggling brother to hold him still until either pain backed off or the forced calm in his own voice soothed the confused hunter. “Sorry, kiddo. I didn’t tell Bobby not to move you. My fault…just like this was.”

Rufus was standing a little bit away with Tom McClean who was waiting to talk the Park Service’s chopped in at a nearby clearing for an emergency medical lift. “What the hell caused that?” the gruff speaking hunter called out to Bobby, not caring for any of this.

“…hurts, De’n. Jus’ wanna…go…you stay…wit’ me…” Sam’s voice had dropped lower and the way he was dropping letters and slurring his words warned his brother their time was fast running out.

Ignoring the grumbling Bobby was doing as he tried to get a better idea of Sam’s wounds or the way Jodi was attempting to make the junk man turned hunter to leave them alone, Dean blocked it all out.

When Sam was small and even after he’d gotten older, when it was just the two of them…when their Dad was gone on a hunt or out doing whatever it was that John did, Dean was the one Sam turned to.

Even though Dean often bitched about his little brother’s over emotion side and the chick-flick moments, he dealt with them all without too much griping because he knew that was how Sam dealt with things.

Dean had grown up learning how to bottle his emotions up, to shield them because John didn’t like his sons showing emotions that could be used against them, so he learned to hide his away.

Sam, on the other hand, had never learned that skill until more recently. It was after Dean’s return from Hell that Sam had begun to hide his emotions, to shield his pain, his doubts, his fears because he knew that he and Dean had issues…that Dean had changed during those four months or forty years in Hell.

Dean accepted that he and Sam grew apart after that and knew that he hadn’t done much to fix it as he should’ve. That was what he’d planned to start doing since Sam’s soul was back because since waking up that day Sam was more open and pure Sammy than Dean had seen in years.

Now that he was hurt this seriously, another side of Sam was surfacing that only Dean had seen. A frightened kid who wasn’t certain what was happening to him and just needed some sense of reassurance that his big brother would make it alright again.

Listening to Sam struggle to breathe and fight not to show the pain he was in, Dean turned all the blocks he’d put up over the years; including the since his time in Hell, around and ignored the people near them to focus just on his brother…just on Sam.

“I know it hurts, Sammy,” he replied, ignoring his own shoulder as he sat back on the forest floor next to Sam to carefully reach for the hand he knew still clutched the amulet he’d given Sam to hold. “And I’ll always be with you, little brother. I will never leave you and no one will ever do this crap again,” he promised, forcing a smile that he only used with his brother. “Your awesome big brother will make this right…and buy you a new phone later.”

Sam’s eyes, or the one not swelled completely shut, opened enough to lock onto Dean’s for a long moment then tried to reach up to grip Dean’s shirt but was too weak to hold on much less pull his brother down closer.

“What is it?” Dean didn’t like how cold Sam’s hands had gotten or how much weaker he seemed. “Sam?”

Suddenly so tired that he wasn’t even feeling the pain or cold as much, Sam fought to stay awake at least to say something that he felt was really important but then had to strain to get it out. 

Seeing that Sam was losing his grip on consciousness again, Dean gripped his hand a little tighter but leaned closer so he could try to hear what his brother was saying over the sudden loud noise of a landing helicopter.

Straining to hear, Dean was able to make out the three words before Sam passed out but stayed still as those words registered and he struggled to keep back the emotions that wanted to come out. “Yeah, Sammy,” he whispered, hand still gripping Sam’s and was oblivious to how his own voice shook. “I love you too, little brother.”

So focused on Sam, Dean wasn’t aware of the other people who were now there. He wasn’t until an unknowing hand went to touch Sam’s neck to feel for a pulse and his reaction was instant.

“Dean!” Jodi yelled, jumping back to avoid being knocked over when Dean grabbed the on site EMT’s arm to twist it and the man around to slam him face first down to the ground with his Colt cocked and pressed to the back of his neck. “Dean, stop!”

“Don’t. Touch. My. Brother.” he gritted, the quiet soothing tone he’d used on Sam just seconds earlier was gone and in its place was a drop dead cold, hard, harsh tone that not even Bobby had ever had the boy use in all the time he’d known him.

All the recent strain in his life, to fighting to get his brother’s soul back and hoping it didn’t destroy his mind to finally this most recent issue had Dean falling back to his most basic response to anyone trying to touch Sam. Kill first and deal with the consequences later.

“Dean!” Bobby had latched on to the gun while using his other hand to take a firm hold of the back of Dean’s shirt in order to give a hard yank. “That’s one of the EMT’s, idjit!” he snapped, swearing under his breath while hoping Rufus and Tom could keep any other weapons from being pulled. “Dean! He’s here to help Sam, now let him go!”

Watching the scene with a cautious eye since while the other paramedics weren’t armed, the one other Park Ranger who’d arrived on scene clearly was and seemed to be waiting for Tom McClean to give him the go ahead to draw his sidearm, Rufus Turner ran his tongue over his teeth with a low whistle.

“Got a tranquilizer gun?” he asked casually, figuring if Bobby didn’t talk Dean off this ledge that might be their only way to get him away from Sam without doing the boy any more actual harm. “We could wing him but I think Bobby’d object.”

Still gripping the EMT’s arm in a vice-like grip, Dean’s gaze had dropped to the hand that was keeping him from pulling the trigger when finally the stern voice yelling in his face began to sink in. “Sam’s scared. No one touches my little brother when he’s scared, Bobby. You know that.”

“Honey, you have to let them take care of Sam,” Jodi had decided to take the risk and knelt beside Dean, laying a careful hand on the shoulder that wasn’t bleeding. “He’s going to be fine but you need to let go now, step back, and let these people do their jobs,” she encouraged quietly, using her best and most reasonable ‘Mom’ tone while hoping she wouldn’t have to turn it into the more strict one.

It was another moment of tension before slowly Dean’s finger moved away from the trigger guard, carefully shifting the Colt away as he gave a wary, almost questioning look to Bobby and Jodi then let the man go. “His leg’s broke and his knee’s shattered,” he spoke to the oddly not alarmed paramedic who’d simply returned to his place next to the younger hunter while another medic approached more cautiously with a stretcher.

“His name’s Sam. He was born on May 2, 1982, he’s…6’4” and you lost me at his weight these days,” Dean rattled off details that were engrained in his mind, while unconsciously running his fingers back through his hair which had been a restless habit he’d once had and still did have when on edge or too wired.

“Pretty sure he’s got a serious concussion cause he’s got at least two or three open gashes on his head, the little cuts aren’t an issue right now but the deeper ones along with a few of those goddamn burns are infected. He’s coughing up blood and his breathing sounds like the Impala’s heater with those Legos in it. He’s been hurt bad and probably without food or water for at least three days and…” Dean paused to take a shaky breath when he noticed the odd looks he was getting. “What?”

The medic that had just met Dean’s gun up close and personal had looked up from taking careful stock of Sam’s numerous wounds. “You are a doctor as well as a hunter?” he asked stoically, not missing the sharp look the lead Park Ranger gave him. 

Not catching the no so hidden meaning in the question, Dean’s gaze simply dropped to watch his brother’s bloody face before lifting it slowly. “No, I’m his big brother.”

“Makes sense then,” the medic returned then stood to consider things. “He needs a hospital and I mean he needs it now or he won’t be seeing another dawn,” he announced plainly, watching Dean but speaking to Bobby and Ranger McClean. “We can stabilize him in the chopper but he needs surgery and even then I won’t promise.”

“Lucas, a little less enthusiasm would be nice,” the Ranger understood how close to snapping again Dean was even before seeing his fingers clench. “Tell me how you really feel his chances are.”

The sarcasm didn’t bother the medic who moved aside while his two companions worked to carefully get Sam’s prone body onto the stretcher without either making his already critical situation worse or causing Dean to snap again.

“80/20…against him even surviving to Grand Rapids,” the main medic replied, turning to meet Dean’s narrowing gaze fully. “Punching me isn’t going to save your brother. Letting me take him in that chopper without you, since I don’t need you tearing the pilot’s head off, will possibly give him a better shot at living. Your choice.”

Bobby had moved two steps closer in case he needed to grab Dean before he could rip the lungs right out of the man since very rarely had he heard anyone, except maybe for him or Jim Murphy, talk to Dean Winchester in that tone, especially when it was about Sam.

“That boy is gonna kill someone before this is over,” Rufus muttered to himself then wondered if maybe he hadn’t already, making a mental note to have Bobby ask Dean how he’d gotten Sam away from Walt and Roy in the first place.

Feeling the muscle in his jaw twitch, Dean debated how pissed Bobby or the Park Ranger would get if he just shot the medic when a low almost whimper from Sam reminded him of what was more important as he knelt down beside the stretcher.

To attempt to stabilize Sam, the medics had begun IV fluid drips with what Dean guessed were a combination of things to just support his brother’s dropping vitals. The blood bags wouldn’t help much since Sam was still losing blood from various places.

“Sammy,” reaching for Sam’s one hand, Dean felt the amulet that was still grasped as if it was Sam’s main lifeline right then.

He hated to ever see his brother hurt because when Sam hurt then in so many ways so did Dean. To see him this injured and knowing why it was done made it worse but it was always seeing the damn oxygen mask that did it because for Dean, that mask meant his brother needed help to breath and that never meant good things.

“Hey, Sasquatch, Sheriff Mills is gonna ride with you to the hospital,” he spoke normally and wondered if his voice shook as much as he thought it did as he tried to reassure his brother even though Dean was aware that Sam probably couldn’t hear him. “Y’know, the whole flying thing just isn’t me so you listen to her and those doctors and I will be with you before you wake up.”

Dean felt his eyes burn but didn’t bother to slash away the annoying tears, giving Sam’s hand a careful squeeze before turning to meet Jodi Mill’s tear filled eyes. “He’s holding my amulet. When they have to take it, hold onto it until I get there and stay with him until they make you leave him cause Sammy hates hospitals and…”

“I’ll stay with him, Dean,” Jodi promised, laying a gentle hand on the fist he’d clenched as the stretcher was lifted. “Sam’ll be fine. He’s strong and according to Bobby just as muleheaded as his big brother. Watch him,” she whispered as she hurried passed Bobby and Rufus to follow the medics toward the chopper.

Dean remained still as his eyes locked on the amount of blood soaking into the ground as well as into his jacket. “He can’t die, Bobby. Not after I just got him back, Sammy just can’t die.”

“You need to let someone look at that shoulder,” Bobby heard more emotion in Dean’s voice than he could recall hearing in years and he had a hunch what the reaction would be if Sam didn’t pull through. “Dean, you did everything you could for him so…”

Giving the blood soaked jacket a furious kick, Dean whirled to stalk a few feet away and just paced as all the emotions he’d buried the past few hours came.

“I wasn’t there when he was grabbed! I knew that eventually that son of a bitch would come after us again. Hell, I’d promised Walt twice I’d kill him for touching my brother and I didn’t. By the time I got here, got to him…did you see him, Bobby?” he demanded, eyes turning to stare back into the forest.

Dean knew he’d never forget what he’d found when he finally got to Sam. He would never be able to close his eyes and not see either what those two bastards had done and were doing to his little brother or the scene he’d left.

A nudge from Rufus and a lifted brow from Tom, who had stayed behind, had Bobby taking his cap off to run an uneasy hand over the back over his head. “Dean…are they dead?” he asked, assuming so since they hadn’t had anyone shooting at them yet. “Dean? Where’re Walt and Roy?”

When once again the question went unanswered, the older man blew out a breath. “Dean! What in the hell happened?”

Knowing he’d broken more than a few of both his Dad’s and Bobby’s rules by what he’d done, Dean knew one of the biggest was that he’d left the scene without verifying both kills.

Every ounce of him wanted to just go find the Impala, drive to Grand Rapids and be with his brother while Sam fought to survive the injuries inflicted on him.

 Dean did not want to go back up to that run down shack of a cabin. He did not want to make that trek through this forest for the third time in his life, especially since he had two hunters and a Park Ranger in tow…but the hunter in him knew he’d never be at ease, he never be able to fully reassure himself or Sam that it was finally over, if he didn’t.

“Dean! You gonna answer me or what?” Bobby called again, not liking the younger man’s silence or how rigid he was standing looking into the dense trees. “What happened to Walt?”

Hearing the question and the frustration in Bobby’s voice, Dean considered the best way to answer. Unaware of the dark smirk that crossed his face, he stepped back into the trees for one final trip and just assumed the other men would follow. “Hell happened.”

** Flashback, 36 Hours or so ago, Chippewa National Forest, Minnesota: **

Pushing the Impala far harder than he has since the night after Cold Oak and he’d made a desperate drive to a Crossroad, Dean had been careful to slow down when entering the National Forest. He didn’t want Park Rangers or anyone else getting suspicious of him this soon.

Having a rough idea of where he’d be heading, he’d taken more time than he had years ago to stop and actually buy a map of the general area. A quick look had instantly told Dean that this time he was taking a slightly more cautious but direct route to the spot where he knew Walt and his buddy had dragged Sam.

A quick look at his phone also told Dean that he’d been ignoring Bobby for the past several hours and figured that would earn him one hell of a head slap once the older man caught up.

Driving up further than most tourists would, Dean pulled off road and was glad to find a nice little spot that he could leave the Impala where no Park officer should find. 

“Sorry, baby,” he told the car, wishing he could drive all the way but knowing that was one of the reasons the son of a bitch had chosen this place…now and back when Sam was fifteen.

A quick look into the well stocked trunk gave the elder Winchester an idea of what he had, what he’d need, what he should take and probably what he’d need before this encounter was over.

Running his fingers over a shotgun, his eyes landed something packed carefully in the back of the trunk that he knew Sam would want since his brother had always made a grab for the battered leather jacket that had once belonged to their Dad until he’d given it and the Impala to Dean.

Considering the forest, the miles he’d be dealing with and the timeframe he had, Dean took another look at the arsenal in the trunk before slipping a couple extra magazines for his Colt into the pockets of his green military style jacket, hesitated a long moment before also taking another knife from the trunk then shut and locked it.

Dean had been hunting for more years than he liked to think about. The most of what he’d learned had come from John Winchester but he also acknowledged picking things up from men like Bobby Singer and Jim Murphy.

His Dad had taught him that there was no gray area in what they did, that it was black and white, simple. Bobby, Jim, and even Jefferson had taught him that while that was true 99.9% of the time, there was always that one percent you had to watch out for. That one percent could kill you if you weren’t careful.

Dean hadn’t been in his teens yet when he first began to realize that that so-called one percent didn’t always fall in the category of the supernatural. “Demons I get, people are still goddamn crazy as hell,” he grumbled, tucking the second blade inside the jacket.

Facing down two hunters who’d grabbed his little brother with just his handgun and two blades might not be smart in anyone’s book but as Dean’s eyes looked up through early morning mist he figured it wouldn’t matter. For what he planned, he didn’t need an arsenal. He just needed to know Sam was safe and less than twenty minutes alone with the sociopath who clearly hadn’t learned his lesson yet.

“Hang on, Sammy,” he murmured, stepping off the main path and it was like he was nineteen again only this time he didn’t have Caleb harping in his ear.

The section of National Forest he was heading to was mostly overgrown but it also had the occasional old cabin or shack that was off limits to tourists but if you knew where they were then one could find a nice safe shelter to do whatever the hell one wanted with little to no interruptions.

Thirteen years earlier Walt had made his first stupid mistake to put him on Dean’s list of ‘people to one day feed their lungs to’ when he lied to Sam about their Dad needing help to get him to go with him and brought him up here in the middle of winter.

Nineteen years old, five years younger than Walt, Dean hadn’t taken the time to either contact or wait for John and had dragged Caleb in for backup.

Walt had lived that time only because Dean’s concern for his brother’s injuries and near hypothermia had been more pressing than ending Walt’s miserable life.

He was still living after shooting both Winchesters in a motel room during the Apocalypse because Dean had been too distracted.

“Now there won’t be anything to save his ass,” Dean knew the odds he’d be facing.

He was facing two to one odds since Walt would have Roy backing him up and Dean knew the son of a bitch would use Sam to keep Dean from going straight for his throat so he was trying to come up with a way to separate the two hunters and get Sam out of harms way before he showed Walt why messing his Sam and pissing Dean off was just a bad thing to do right then.

“Dealing with warring Angels, a crazy side of Mom’s family that I could do without, Cas playing Heaven’s Sheriff and ignoring my damn calls, this asshole picked a made decade to remind me why I hate him,” Dean muttered, taking a familiar trail before he slipped off in order to approach from another side.

He’d basically worked out a possible plan of action when he noticed something tossed to one side and slowed down to pay closer attention.

An excellent tracker, or a better one than he let on to be at times, Dean could tell this was how his prey had brought Sam in.

“ _Sonuvabitch_ ,” he felt his blood run cold the moment his fingers touched the black rubber bracelet that Sam had taken to wearing since waking up with a soul again.

They’d both once had them since Dean had given Sam one after his annoying little brother was always pestering Dean for his.

Sam had stopped wearing his Dean recalled after Dean died and went to Hell. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out why Sam had stopped since Dean had found Sam’s in his shirt pocket after he’d crawled his way out of his own grave.

Guessing that Sam had left the bracelet with Dean after burying him, which Dean still knew his brother had issues with, he’d never given it back until just recently.

The big mouth Sheriff of Heaven had told Sam way too much and his little brother had freaked out, like Dean knew he would, so after calming Sam down, patching his arm after he’d cut it open in a hasty run from Dean, he’d given him back the bracelet and knew his brother would have fought to keep it.

“I will feed them their lungs,” his temper was simmering so when he picked up the bracelet and felt it sticky with blood he felt it skip several notches passed pissed off and gripped it in his fist before pocketing it for cleaning later.

Dean wasn’t a fool. He knew with the time Walt had on him that Sam was going to be hurt. Two months ago and Dean wouldn’t have been quite as worried.

Two months ago it would have taken something beyond white hot nails under his fingers to get that kid to express any emotion, especially pain. Now, since having his soul put back, Sam was still recovering and was much more like he’d been six years earlier when they’d started hunting together again.

This was the side of his little brother that Dean had grown up protecting, shielding, and taking care of. Walt and Roy’s actions were bringing out a side of himself that he hadn’t really been feeling as strongly in years. It was also at the verge of bringing back one other side of Dean that he had prayed never to let out again.

Sam’s scream over the phone, the bloodied bracelet and clear tracks of a body being heavily dragged up the path were all pretty good indications that Dean would be putting his hunter side away for a short time and letting something else come to the forefront.

The closer he got to where he knew the cabin had been the more on edge Dean got. He had no doubt that Walt knew he’d come so he had honestly been expecting some form of traps or alarms as he got closer. He’d even considered the hunter being out himself, waiting to jump Dean.

Not seeing any vehicle concerned Dean since he didn’t want this drawn out. He wanted to find his brother, deal with these two finally and then get Sam as far away from this place as possible.

Debating on the sneaky way or the direct way, Dean was trying to decide what Sam or Bobby would say in this suggestion since he already knew what his Dad’s course of action would’ve been when the sound of the ragged, choked scream took the decision out of his hands and his next reaction was out of pure gut reaction.

“Sam,” the rage and fear that had been combined since this first happened was now replaced by a blinding fury that Dean hadn’t felt this strongly in years. 

The moment Sam’s next agonized cry choked off, Dean was moving. He’d heard similar sounds before and had always vowed that his brother would never know the pain needed to incite them.

Clear thinking forgotten, his plan shoved aside, Dean’s Colt was in his hand before he touched the small porch of what had once been a cabin.

Lock and door shattering with one solid kick, the enraged hunter went in low as John had taught him to come up balanced fully in a crouch as he aimed toward the first silhouette he saw only to freeze in the next second with his stomach doing a dance between his throat and his boots.

“Sammy,” he breathed.

 

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What has Dean walked in on? How bad was Sam hurt to start with and how will he get him free? Where are Walt and Roy and how will Dean actually handle this situation? I’ll update soon. This next one will be a bit more intense and those take a little longer. Also, the next one will contain a mild warning for violence but I think you guys should’ve seen that coming. Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does have a little more violence than the previous three. While I try not to be too graphic there is some so I just wanted to be aware though what I consider violence and what others do may also be different.

** Flashback, continued: **

Dean had thought he’d prepared himself to expect the worst of what Sam had been enduring these past few days. He knew what people were capable of. Hell, they’d both been on the receiving end of it before…but there was no way that he could’ve prepared himself for this.

In Hell, Dean had seen stuff that turned his stomach. After he’d gotten off the rack and began doing it himself to other lost souls, he’d done worse but even those memories hadn’t prepared him the sight of his little brother hung from his wrists by bloody ropes.

Sam’s head was drooped to his bare chest but Dean still saw the bloody, swelled mess that was Sam’s face right then, He saw the cuts and burns even from this distance. He didn’t want to imagine what his brother’s back might look like but then the blood splattered on the floor caught his attention along with bloodstains on Sam’s ruined jeans and Dean felt his teeth clench.

“ _Sonuvabitch_ ,” there was no missing the hate and fury in the curse, Dean pushed to his feet as if to go to Sam when he heard two sounds that made him react in different ways.

The muffled moan told him that Sam was alive but hurt which instantly made him just want to say the hell with anything else, cut Sam loose, and get him the hell out of this place.

It was the other sound that had him shifting to pull the Colt up to aim it straight at a knife wielding Roy.

“Hey, Roy,” he greeted tightly, eyes flicking to the bloody knife to what appeared to be the most recent cut on his brother’s bruised and cut body then back at the more quiet hunter. “Coming after Sam was a mistake, still being here with the damn knife in your hand? That was just plain suicide on your part. Where’s the asshat that started this?”

Something was screaming in Dean’s head when Roy’s shaky smile seemed to grow even as Sam struggled back to a semblance of consciousness at the sound of his brother’s deeper than usual, way too pissed off tone but the pain was too severe for him to even lift his head in an attempt to warn Dean.

A different sound from Sam had Dean’s attention shift back to his brother and it was this change that he knew in one heartbeat was his mistake.

Realizing that Sam’s position in the center of the room was only to act as a distraction, Dean cursed violently. Swinging around, he heard the shot a second before the round pierced his shoulder and he went down to the floor with the Colt clattering out of his grasp.

“Shit!” Dean started to roll in order to regain his footing only to feel a steel toed boot kick him in the side and he bit back the equally violent curse, looking up into the barrel of a big .44 Magnum in the hands of a smirking Walt.

“Well, looks who’s come to the rescue,” he sneered, pulling back the hammer on the big gun while leaning closer to press the muzzle to the center of Dean’s forehead. “Didn’t take you as long as I thought it would, Dean. I figured Roy and I’d have at least another day or so to play with Sam.”

Not blinking at the gun aimed at his head or even paying too much attention to the bullet wound in his shoulder, Dean’s gaze was steady as it looked up into Walt’s smug face. “Let him go…now,” he replied tightly, tone low.

Mistaking the low tone and tight voice for pain, Walt’s laugh was full and mocking while his breath smelled of alcohol when he gave a light, almost taunting, open handed slap across Dean’s face.

“Oh, no, that’s not happening, hotshot,” he glanced up at Sam then back down with a look of almost maniacal enthusiasm. “I’m not done with him yet and…you’re gonna watch.”

If Walt had sounded angry or just taunting Dean might have put more faith in the man was just testing to see how far he could push the elder Winchester. The deep look of sick glee that entered the man’s eyes when he gave another hard stare at the already seriously Sam told Dean that he needed to stop this before his brother could be hurt worse.

“You’re issues are with me, asshole,” Dean snapped, tasting blood as the butt of the Magnum smashed against his jaw while another kick to the side took him back down from where he’d been attempting to slowly push up to an elbow. “Let Sam go and deal with me,” he bit back the groan at the feel of a rib cracking with one more kick and felt the first stirring of true concern at the feel of coarse ropes binding his wrists behind his back.

So arrogant that he had this well in control, he didn’t bother to search Dean, Walt gave the ropes a final tug to be certain they were tight enough for him then grabbed Dean by the front of his jacket to yank him to his feet and into his face.

“I’ll deal with you, Dean,” he promised, shifting a look over to where Roy was standing next to Sam with the serrated blade held to his throat. “After I’m done with him, after I think you’ve heard your precious little brother scream enough then I’ll deal with you, jackass.”

A hard shove toward a corner took Dean back to the floor and forcing his injured shoulder to hit hard, making him nearly pass out from the sudden pain. “Son of a…” he bit off the rest of the curse when his eyes caught sight of the heavy steel rod clutched in Walt’s fist.

“Wake the freak up, Roy,” he ordered his companion while lightly swinging his makeshift bat and keeping his gaze on Dean. “Y’know, sometimes I regret not slitting his throat back before. It would’ve saved me a lotta trouble.”

“You touch him and I’ll show you trouble,” hoping if he taunted Walt enough he could draw him away from Sam, Dean pushed back the pain he was in to struggle into a better position on the floor while trying to determine just how tight the ropes on his wrists were only to discover that working them loose was not an option. “C’mon, you still so scared of me that you have to pick on Sam after you’ve beaten him unconscious?”

Chuckling, Walt stayed where he was but his smug look grew as Roy turned from the small burning fireplace with an iron rod with something on the end that seemed to be burning white hot. “Keep running that smart mouth, hotshot,” he encouraged, jerking his head to what the smaller hunter was doing. 

“You think that beating he took before I lashed him to that tree out in the snow when he was a snot nosed brat or that chest full of buckshot in that motel or even this time was the worst things I could do to Sam?” he sneered, pointing the steel bat toward Dean even as Roy was lifting the branding iron up. “Dean, that was nothing.”

Before Dean could think of a response fast enough he saw the glowing tip of the branding iron jab hard into Sam’s side. 

The hissing sound it made when iron met flesh wasn’t a sound that Dean hadn’t heard before. The smell that accompanied also wasn’t unfamiliar to him. The agonized scream that it brought from Sam, who snapped back to consciousness with the pain and burning he was feeling, brought a deeper sense of panic to Dean as he watched his brother’s battered body jack-knife in the ropes holding him from the ceiling.

“Sammy!” straining in the ropes, Dean’s green eyes locked with the hazel ones across from him that were blown wide open with shock already in addition to pain and fear. “It’s okay, Sammy. I’m here and it’s gonna be fine,” he promised through gritted teeth that wanted to grind more at the mocking laugh he could hear since he refused to break eye contact with his brother.

“You always were a good liar, Winchester,” Walt recalled, not missing the emotion in Dean’s eyes as Roy switched from the now cooled iron to another one. “Your big brother ain’t pullin’ you outta this one, Sam,” he told his helpless captive, grabbing a handful of hair to jerk Sam’s head up after it once again dropped forward as if he didn’t have the strength to keep it up. “He always bragged about protecting you, about what he’d do to anyone who touched his brother, heh. Not so big and tough with that bullet in your arm and tied, are you, Dean?”

Now aware that Walt’s hatred and bitterness had gone beyond reason and that any reply he made or if he tried to deflect him from Sam would just endanger his brother more, Dean bit the inside of his cheek to keep silent while working his hands more in the ropes until he finally touched what he’d been trying to reach.

The hatred radiating off of Dean however also didn’t go unnoticed as Walt considered the weapon in his hand that he’d been planning to use on Dean then quickly decided to put it to another use first. “Hold him still, Roy,” he ordered easily, knowing his fellow hunter would obey without question.

Once Roy had been more reluctant in joining in Walt’s schemes or actions. He’d been the one to hesitate on shooting Dean in that motel room. Since then however he’d just gone along with Walt and now didn’t seem to mind taking part in a few of the more brutal things or hunts they’d done.

“What’re you gonna do?” he did ask but didn’t hesitate in moving behind Sam to take a firm hold while trying not to get too much blood on his hands, not an easy task since between the infected burns, the long cuts, and welts most of Sam Winchester was nothing but blood. “Thought you wanted Sam to see you kill his brother before we offed him.”

“Yep, that was the plan,” Walt admitted then shot his friend a smirk while he added with a look over his shoulder. “That was before I remembered that the best way to hurt Dean…was to hurt his brother and the best way to do that is to make this cocky son of a bitch watch as we finish torturing Sam. Then before I slit his throat he can watch his brother burn cause that old man specified we burn the body after cutting something off as proof of the kill.”

“ _Sonuvabitch_ ,”  Dean gritted, his fury growing by the second for not only Walt but for Samuel Campbell but his fury took a backseat to the pain in his heart from seeing the confused fear in Sam’s eyes then his own heart hitched the moment he realized what Walt was about to do. “No. Walt! Stop, don’t do…”

The steel bat drew back and swung with a blow meant to inflict maximum damage as it struck twice against Sam’s right knee, causing him to once against strain in the ropes only to be held by Roy as the bat once again came across his leg and while the screams were muffled by the filthy and bloody gag in his mouth there was no mistaking the agony in them.

“You goddamn _son of a bitch_! I will _kill_ you!” Dean’s emotions made his voice break as he seemed to be powerless to do anything but watch his little brother be slowly tormented, fighting not to show his own pain as he fought to lock eyes with Sam again. 

This latest assault had Sam’s eyes clenched shut against the pain coursing through his body along with every other ounce of pain from before and his thoughts wanted to drift toward anything else but this time, this pain, this horror. 

Only one thing kept Sam from giving in the peace of unconsciousness; his brother’s voice. Knowing that Dean was there, knowing that no matter how bad this got his big brother would find a way to stop it made Sam struggle not to give in…no matter how much his body was begging him to.

“You ain’t killing anyone, big shot,” Walt sneered, handing the bat off to Roy while taking a knife from his belt and walking slowly around Sam as if surveying his prey. “Bet that bat shattered his knee pretty good. Y’know, I’ve learned a pretty good skill since the last time we met. Some guy Roy and I met in Texas showed me how to skin a person while they’re still alive and to keep ‘em alive,” he ran the tip of the skinny blade down the side of Sam’s face while looking toward Dean. “Want to see if I can do it again?”

Sam’s body was trembling from both shock and pain as it hung swinging, his right leg and knee were a complete mess under his jeans. The numb part of him didn’t want to face anymore. That part wanted it to be over, he just wanted to give in to the pain and let go. He did not want to face what else this sick minded bastard could do to him or what he’d do to Dean.

Shock and pain were blurring his vision but for just a millisecond his eyes cleared enough to see Dean across the room from him and he saw what Roy and Walt were missing.

He could tell his brother was bleeding from the shoulder and still appeared tied but it was what else Sam saw before his vision began blurring over again that took some of the livid fear away. He’d seen Dean’s eyes. He’d seen his older brother’s face and slowly understood that Walt had no idea of what he might’ve just unleashed.

“Don’t touch him again, Walt,” Dean warned, seeing the pain in Sam’s eyes when they’d locked momentarily and in that brief moment of clarity he gave his brother a small smile that only Sam would understand then his gaze hardened the moment the tip of the knife drew a thin line of blood from the back of Sam’s ear. “Last chance. Let him go and deal with me or deal with me in a way you won’t like.”

“Big talk for someone tied up and bleeding, Winchester,” Walt shot over without looking as he grabbed a handful of hair to yank Sam’s head back. “Let’s see how much more we can make your baby brother scream.”

“Your choice, asshole,” Dean murmured, seeing Sam jerk as the blade cut and knowing how close to a main vein the moron was chose to act in the only way left open to him. “Hey!”

Not considering Dean a threat, Walt went to give a slow smug look over his shoulder with the tip of his blade held at Sam’s jugular when in one flash of a moment his smug and overconfident sneer turned to open shock as a boot knife flew across the room, striking him in the shoulder and forcing him away from Sam in order to catch himself as he fell hard to the floor.

“Bastard!” he snarled, seeing red and now more determined than ever to make Dean Winchester bleed. “Shoot his goddamn knew out!”

The sudden action had shocked Roy into being still for a second too long and his chance at grabbing for his weapon was lost.

Dean had been working on getting to the knife he kept in his boot from the second he’d been shoved back. Seeing his chance had come, he’d pulled the knife and threw it with an accuracy that he rarely showed off with a blade.

The split second that it took him to throw the blade into Walt’s shoulder, he was rolling toward where his Colt had landed. 

Hearing Walt’s roar of fury, Dean’s fingers clasped around the hilt of the weapon in time to come out of the roll on one knee, balanced and ready to fire two shots toward Roy. 

Seeing one strike the smaller man in the gut while the other might’ve grazed his leg as Roy dropped to the floor with a scream, Dean went to fire one more only to swear as Roy scrambled to his feet to run out the door in a weak attempt to escape.

Accepting that Roy was the lessor of two evils for the moment, Dean’s gaze and weapon aimed and fired a single round into Walt’s kneecap just as the man was struggling to get to his feet with Dean’s boot knife still embedded deeply in his shoulder.

“Son of a bitch!” Walt screamed, falling back to the floor to clutch his now shattered knee.

“Doesn’t feel too good does it, asshole?” Dean shot back, a look telling him that Walt was not going to be an issue for the time it took him to cut Sam free. “Sammy?”

A look around to reassure himself that Walt was going to be clutching his leg for awhile and Roy was probably out in the forest bleeding out, Dean shoved the Colt into his jeans while reaching down to yank the knife from Walt’s shoulder. 

The blade pulling free made an even deeper wound, making the former hunter grit his teeth while gazing murderously up at Dean who smirked, wiped the blood off on Walt’s own pants leg before stepping in front of Sam’s now limp body.

One quick look told Dean his little brother was hurt a lot worse than even he’d originally thought. Up close he could see the bruises, welts, and cuts more clearly. The deep burns had already acquired a thin layer on infection and he could tell from the shallow breathing that Sam’s ribs were broke.

Not even wanting to consider the wounds he couldn’t see much less the damage done to Sam’s leg and knee, Dean moved his left hand up to carefully feel for a pulse then felt some relief that it still seemed to be beating strongly, if erratically, under his fingers.

“Sam?” calling to his brother while shifting his eyes to examined the ropes holding Sam upright, Dean noticed the pulley system but also knew he was on his own in getting Sam loose while hard green eyes would move to make certain Walt was still where he needed to be.

A burst of anger filling him, Dean took the gag out while resisting the urge to wind it around Walt’s neck. “C’mon, Sammy, look at me,” he urged, feeling panic build again until he heard a soft moan then he braced himself to support Sam while reaching up to slice through the first rope.

When the rope gave, Sam’s limp body began to sag and his first instinct was to fight against the feel of someone touching him until he recognized the voice talking to him in a low but strong tone. “…De’n…” his voice gave out from days of screaming with no liquid then he struggled not to scream again as his shattered leg buckled before Dean could fully support him. “Argh!”

“I know, kid, I know,” Dean swore under his breath after the last rope broke and he had to move quickly to keep Sam’s full deadweight from taking them both to the floor. “Easy, Sammy, just lean on me.” 

A low smug grunt from where Walt laid reminded Dean that his brother was still in danger and that no matter what else Dean may say or do it would always be that way unless he handled this with Walt.

“Sammy, lay here,” Dean was gentle as he eased Sam down on a barely held together bed tossed up in a corner. Feeling fingers try to grip his arm, he knelt down to see that Sam’s eyes had struggled to open but the one was too swelled to make the attempt.

A quick look as gashed, bruised, burned skin gave Dean a good idea of what else had been happening to Sam then his gaze went down slowly to see those damn brands while noticing that even in his weakened state that his brother seemed to be trying to keep his bare back from touching the filthy, rough wool blanket.

“Let me look,” he urged softly, keeping a hand on Sam’s closest shoulder while carefully easing him over to one side enough so he could peek at Sam’s back. “ _Sonuvabitch_ ,” he gritted at the sight that greeted him and slowly, more slowly than he felt like, Dean let Sam move back while giving a comforting squeeze to the shoulder his hand was still on. 

“Just rest here a couple minutes, Sammy,” Dean spoke in what he thought was a pretty level tone, catching the weak hand that had went to grab for him and knew that somewhere inside Sam knew what was coming and didn’t want it to. “I need to handle this, Sam. You get some strength back and I’ll be…right back.”

Sam went to try to latch on to his brother but knew by the hardening, icy tone coming into Dean’s voice that it was too late and flashes of Dean’s behavior right after returning from Hell come back. He only hoped that the burning agonizing pain that was slowly taking him under again was enough to block the sounds or he hoped that Dean didn’t let it go that far.

Seeing that Sam was close to passing out due to the pain his body was in, Dean’s jaw muscle twitched as he took in the still bleeding wounds and soiled jeans. By the time his green eyes pinned Walt he’d allowed the fury, the rage, all the buried emotions to come to the surface but unlike usually when his temper too hold there was no outbursts, no fists bunching.

The hate was present, the rage was there. The pure big brother concern for Sam was still in his heart but right then all Dean was seeing was Walt taking a goddamn steel bat to Sam’s leg and knee. All he could hear was his little brother’s choked screams and as he looked at the blood from Sam’s wounds that now stained his hands his mindset was going back to another time, another place.

Another time and place that Dean swore after the Angels made him torture Alastair that he’d never go to that place in himself again yet even as he felt himself reaching down to yank Walt to his feet, slamming him back hard against the large brick fireplace he knew to protect Sam he’d go there one more time.

“So, you got your kicks hurting my brother?” he asked tightly, arm pressed against the struggling hunter’s throat. “You enjoyed making him scream? You and your buddy actually thought you could go after him, torture him, shatter his goddamn leg and not expect to piss me off? Walt, you stupid son of a bitch, you would’ve been better off shooting me than touching my brother.”

A quick look in a room off the main one gave Dean a quick idea since he knew this needed to be quick in order for him to get Sam the help he’d need.

Giving a glance over to see that Sam appeared to be unconscious, he didn’t miss the way his brother seemed to breathing or the way his one hand kept moving as if reaching for something, Dean gave a hard slam to Walt’s head to the mantle before shoving him into the other room.

“You’ve listened to a lot of crap about Sam but how much have you heard about me?” he asked, seeing that Walt and Roy had brought a lot of stuff that could, in the right hands, be used to hurt. “Did you hear the rumors that to save my little brother’s life I sold my soul at a Crossroads? That I got a year then I was literally a chewtoy to a goddamn Hellhound? Did you hear the one where I spent four months or forty years Hell time in the very pits of Hell?”

Taking a heavy chain that was placed by a bag of things that Dean refused to even consider might’ve been used on his brother, he considered for one long moment until the sound on that steel bat slamming into Sam’s knee echoed in his head.

“You’re…crazy!” Walt spat, having heard something to that effect but shrugging that off to crazy talk even though other hunters, more reliable ones, had spoken of the four months that Dean Winchester had dropped off the grid in whispers.

“No, not crazy,” Dean sighed, finally meeting the other man’s eyes fully and didn’t have to wonder what Walt seen because he knew already. It was what so many in Hell had seen once he’d taken Alastair offer. “Just pissed off. Pissed off enough to fall back on a skill I swore never to use again.”

Grabbing Walt before the man could use his good leg to kick with, Dean’s fist slammed into his face with a force that he only used when truly angry and felt bone and cartilage break. “I told you not to ever touch my brother and you thought you could. That was a huge mistake on your part, Walt.”

“Always…next time,” Walt spat blood that was running from his broken nose, then howled in pain as the arm with the knife wound in the shoulder was stretched back to fold over an old but still sturdy metal frame that had been stored in the room. “What the hell…argh!!”

Dean’s open hand pressed hard onto the shoulder before using the chain to fix the other arm in a similar fashion then hook the chain links together with a lock he’d found in the bag before holding up another set of clamps. “You and Roy turn sadistic or should I be worried what else you do get up to in your free time?” he used these clamps to make sure Walt wasn’t going to kick or manage to get away to hurt Sam again.

“As for the next time?” Dean looked up from hooking the final clamp, his eyes going colder as he stood to withdraw the second blade he’d brought with him and allowed Walt to see it before leaning closer. “There won’t be a next time for you. You will never touch my brother or anyone else ever again.”

It was the sight of the short more decorative looking blade held loosely in Dean’s fist as if it felt natural to him along with the colder tone and drop in tone that told Walt that he might’ve pushed the elder Winchester a bit too far. “Hey…what’re you…?”

“What? Afraid that you can’t take your own treatment?” Dean countered, glancing at the knife and recalling the numerous souls in Hell he’d taken apart with a blade. “For thirty Hell years I told a demon where to stick his offers. I was ripped apart in ways that not even you could imagine. Then one day that demon hit my weak spot and I gave in,” he traced a sigal lightly in the center of Walt’s chest after cutting it open. “For the next year or one month Earth time I was one of Alastair’s prized students at dealing out pain and torture.”

The memories of that time were still things that Dean strived to forget, to avoid, and certainly to never allow Sam to know about. Now that he was forced to use those skills again, they took him back and his voice dropped to a much colder, more gruff one than he would normally have used even when angry.

The other key to where Dean’s mind was would have been his eyes. Normally his green eyes were bright with life now as his steady hand applied more pressure to actually cut the mark he’d traced, his eyes were deep green but hard as was his face.

“Argh! Stop! You’re a hunter!” Walt strained against the chain and clamps holding him to the frame, his cockiness replaced by actual fear. “You can’t do this!”

 “Right now I’m not a hunter,” Dean corrected, briefly lifting his gaze without moving his head and the expression on his ruggedly handsome face froze the other man to the core. “I’m a big brother. I’m Sammy’s big brother and I told you before not to touch him. Now you get to see what Hell has taught me.”

Memories and techniques came back much too easy for Dean’s liking which was a reminder to him that no matter how much he buried or how long he tried those times would never leave him.

In little under twenty minutes a now squirming and begging Walt had learned that perhaps the stories about Dean hadn’t been rumor or myth but cold hard fact as with very little effort or try, the young man had made several creative cuts that offered a small taste of the agony that Sam had endured.

“You…they’ll hunt you,” Walt gasped, voice garbled from pain but was unable to scream as the wounds were inflicted due to two fingers that had located a nerve in his neck. “When…I get…free…I’ll...” this time his scream echoed through the room as the knife slashed a cut down the side of his body much like one Sam carried.

“There won’t be anything left to point anyone in my direction, asshole,” Dean returned coldly, knowing Roy needed to be handled but figured he could do that once Sam was safe. “You made the choice, Walt. Now you pay the price.”

The next few cuts were made with the intent to inflict pain but without leaving much in the way of blood since while blood was a good tool it was often too messy.

“You cut, beat, starved, burned and branded my brother,” voice tight with anger, Dean’s blade shifted to cut low under the skin but stop short of muscle as his fingers then dug in deep and felt those muscles jump under his touch. “Tell me how much fun you had torturing Sam. Tell me how much you laughed when he yelled as you burned him,” squeezing hard, eyes glittering in icy rage. “Now tell me how much fun you’re having now when with one yank I could rip the goddamn muscle out of your arm.”

Dean was oblivious to anything now but his own emotions, the anger, the guilt, the fear. He’d stopped hearing or caring about the gargled shouts or even the feel of blood on his hands as instincts took over. Only one sound finally through to him…a sound that he knew would always break into his concentration. The one that had ever since he’d taught his brother to talk.

“…De’n…?”  Sam’s voice sounded more slurred than before, it also had that tone of being afraid and confused while searching for his brother. “De’n…where’re…?”

“Stay there, Sammy,” Dean called, knowing if Sam even tried to stand right then he’d hurt himself more by falling and he wasn’t certain how much current memory the kid would have right then. “I’ll be…right there.”

Hate still should in Walt’s eyes and he tried to offer a sneer but the blood on his face from both fist and blade made the effort lacking. “Now…what, big shot?” he gasped, eyes shifting past Dean toward the main room. “You leave…take care of…the freak and…when Roy gets back or…I get loose…I’ll show you both…”

The blade flashed without thought or hesitation as it cut the throat of the bragging ex-hunter. “Now it’s over,” Dean murmured, stepping back to avoid the blood from the bloody cut and watching for only a few seconds as the man who’d tormented them both slowly bled out and he knew this was one nightmare he could honestly say was over for Sam.

Wiping the knife off on a torn bit of Walt’s shirt, he resheathed it before stepping back into the main room to see that one of Sam’s eyes had managed to open but the glassiness in it worried Dean. “Hey, little brother,” he knelt down to feel for a pulse and managed to hide the frown.

Sam’s pulse was weak and jumpy but it was how cold and clammy his skin was that really worried Dean. As he considered splinting Sam’s leg, he felt weak fingers trying to grip his hand and he reached up to grasp it tightly.

“Let’s get you outta here, kid,” he decided, figuring if he could get Sam lifted up then he could carry him far enough away from this cabin then rest before trying to the trip to the Impala.

“…over, De’n?” Sam’s voice was dropping letters and missing words as he tried to speak through a mouth that felt like a desert and pain then felt like screaming as his whole leg seemed to explode in agony. “Dean!”

Wishing there was a way to help Sam without causing him more pain, Dean gritted his teeth as he managed to lift his taller and slightly heavier brother up over his shoulders in a makeshift fireman’s carry despite the bullet wound in his own shoulder.

“Just stay with me, Sam,” he urged through gritted teeth, hoping he could maintain his balance and not take them both to the ground as he fought to get Sam away from this place that had dealt him so much pain. “Just stay with me a little longer. I’ll take care of it all. You’re safe now.”

“…always…safe…wit’…you,” Sam mumbled, eyes closed as the pain began making him go under again so he missed the softening of his older brother’s face or the single tear that fell.

“Yeah, you’ll always be safe with me, Sammy,” Dean whispered, hoping he could still keep that promise and that he still deserved his brother’s trust.

** Present Time: Back at the Cabin, Chippewa National Forest: **

Those memories were going through Dean Winchester’s head at that moment as he neared the cabin. He felt tired, both emotionally and physically but shrugged that off to both his concern for his brother and the loss of blood he had suffered.

It seemed so long to Dean that he’d carried Sam out of this damn run down cabin and while every piece of him wanted to go to the hospital, to be with Sam, he knew he needed to be sure.

Droplets of blood on the ground leading away from the cabin toward the rear of it, to another path made him frown because he’d hoped Roy’s wounds had dealt with themselves. The thought of the other man escaping gave Dean more cause for concern than he really needed right then.

“Wanna tell me what I’m walkin’ into?” Bobby Singer asked as he stepped up to the younger man, noticing that Dean seemed to getting more pale but it was the hardness in his eyes that still concerned the junk man turned hunter. “Dean?”

“Roy got out before I could make a kill shot,” with his gaze locked on the shaky trail of blood, Dean pushed to his feet as if to follow it only to feel a hand grip his bicep and it took a lot of willpower to fight off the instinctive urge to fight. “If he makes it out of the park…”

Park Ranger Tom McClean had kept quiet on the trek up from where they’d found the Winchesters to the cabin but he’d been observing.

Raised on one of the local Native American reservations in the area, he seemed to have been born with the ability to read people. One look or meeting and he could get a general feel for someone. A former Green Beret, those skills had been enhanced along with others.

A friend of Bobby Singers for more years than either liked to consider, he’d readily agreed to help since this mess had landed in his backyard quite literally. 

He knew what Bobby and his friends did. He knew and accepted the hunting of things of the strange and weird. Hell, he’d taken out his own fair share of the supernatural but this felt different and had from the moment he first laid eyes on Dean.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that there was a lot more to Dean than either Bobby or Rufus Turner tried to let on. The boy’s skill with weapons was one clue but it was the more instinctive body language when Dean was shielding his brother and the look in his eyes that really told McClean that this boy had seen and done more than perhaps Bobby knew about.

“My people will take a look around the park for him,” he finally spoke, noticing the way Dean seemed to be staring at the cabin. “The other one inside?”

“He was when Sam and I left,” Dean replied, tone neutral as the Ranger met his gaze then turned to enter with Bobby while Rufus decided to take a quick look around in case Roy was just hiding. “Shit.”

Wondering about the Ranger’s connection to Bobby and how much Bobby would bitch if he shot the man, Dean slowly let himself sit on the rickety step and closed his eyes for just a moment, once again seeing his little brother hanging, seeing the pain and fear in those big hazel eyes, hearing him fight to just breathe toward the end.

“Hang on, Sammy,” he whispered, fingers reaching into the pocket of his jeans to feel the rubber bracelet and tensing at the vocal exclamation coming from inside the cabin, wondering how hard it would be to not only make Walt’s body vanish but also a damn Park Ranger.

McClean and Bobby had stepped into the cabin, both cautious. The front room, the main room, still showed pretty clear signs of what Roy and Walt had been up to. 

The bloody ropes that still hung from the ceiling told both men how Dean probably found his brother. The steel bat laying on the floor, the few branding irons tossed near the dwindling fireplace were still caked with dried blood and skin.

“Balls!” Bobby grunted, taking a good look around and figuring out what had happened to Sam and why Dean was in the frame of mind he was. “Those stupid sons of bitches.”

“Bobby, what the hell did you say that kid was besides a hunter?” Tom McClean called from the smaller side room after he’d just stepped inside.

“A pain in my ass normally,” Bobby rolled his eyes then went to see what had caused that question. “Why?”

Stepping aside to offer Bobby a full view of Walt, McClean merely lifted a dark brow. “Should I be worried or can you explain this?” he asked, giving another look to the bloody, well worked over dead body. “I’ll tell you straight out that I’ve only seen work like this in ‘Nam and not in a good place. Your boy capable of this?”

“Damn,” Bobby had figured that if Dean ever got his hands on Walt that one of them wouldn’t be walking away and while he had no doubts that Dean could handle himself, he honestly hadn’t been expecting this. Then what Dean said about Hell finally clicked and he felt like groaning.

Bobby knew very little about those months Dean spent in Hell and what he did know wasn’t good. He knew that time along with so much more caused a giant rift between the boys that he was only now starting to see heal.

Very rarely did Bobby see Dean go to that dark place that still existed inside himself but a good look at Walt showed that clearly whatever the hell happened in this place, whatever he’d seen happen to Sam had pushed him back into the place. Now he just had to hope he could talk the Ranger into seeing reason and not going all official.

“Tom, all those two boys have are each other. It’s been that way even before their Dad died,” he began quietly, not needing Dean in here because he knew more than likely what the boy’s first reaction to possibly being arrested would be.

“Dean raised Sam. He taught that kid everything he knows and if there is one person in this world that Dean will drop the anti-emotional shields for it’s Sam,” gazing at the corpse, Bobby sighed. “You saw Sam’s condition. Dean was pissed and he’s gone to Hell for his brother, literally, so this is actually mild compared to what the boy probably wanted to do.”

McClean knew this was a bad situation to be stuck in. On the one hand, his professional side demanded him to take action since while what the dead man had done was wrong and illegal; he still had a dead body in his park with the possible killer sitting just outside the cabin.

Then there was the other side of his moral dilemma, the one that understood where Dean’s mind was probably at. He had seen the injuries the younger man had suffered; he had seen the pain in Dean when he couldn’t help his younger brother more than he already had.

He had personal experience in understanding that kind of pain and understanding why the boy had reacted in the way he had and also why it was vital for them to locate Roy.

“You owe me, old man,” he muttered sourly, reaching for his cellphone to place a call and hoping they answered. “Hey, got something I need to make vanish. I don’t care what you do with it or how you do it, just make sure it’s gone, handled and no remains ever surface.”

McClean rolled his eyes while choosing to remind his cousin in a language only they knew why doing this would be best. “I’ll send the cabin’s location to Liam’s GPS. Get up here and get it outta my Park,” he ordered, waving Bobby’s look away. “There are places all over the reservation that no one will go to these days. My cousins will make sure this son of a bitch’s body vanishes off the planet but you better get a handle on that boy out there because I do not want a massacre in my state.”

“Dean controls his temper,” Bobby returned while not saying that he hoped it would be that simple. “Roy’s an issue.”

“I’ll find him and you deal with that,” McClean stated, hearing a phone ringing. “Bad news or good?”

“Damn well better be good unless you really want to see Dean lose it,” Bobby sighed, stepping out to take the phone after he noticed that Dean’s hands were shaking too much to even activate it. “Yeah?”

As Bobby stepped off the porch for better reception, Rufus came around the cabin with a sour look. “That fool left a trail of blood that a blind man could follow,” he sounded exasperated. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and he’ll get himself eaten.”

“My luck doesn’t play like that,” Dean murmured, needing to get to his feet when he realized shock was now coming on too fast and he wanted to hear what Bobby was saying on the phone but something else drew his attention. “So, am I getting locked up?”

“Get outta my jurisdiction and stop leaving me corpses to get rid of and I’ll let you off with a warning this time,” McClean replied, moving a quick hand to the young hunter’s good shoulder when he saw him weave a bit too much. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, son.”

Waving that off, Dean knew what he could handle and while he accepted that he was pushing it, he just wanted to get to Grand Rapids and be with Sam when he woke up. 

Then Bobby turned around with the phone still held in his hand, a grim look on his face and pain in his eyes and every ounce of strength Dean still hand slowly began to drain away. “Dean…”

“No,” Dean whispered, stomach clenching, heart rate increasing and letting himself fall back onto the steps. He’d seen that expression more times than he liked in his life and this time he refused to accept it. “No, Bobby.”

“That was Jodi…Sheriff Mills,” Bobby coughed, pocketing the phone so it didn’t become a casualty of what he figured was soon to happen. “They got Sam to the hospital in Grand Rapids and they rushed him into surgery but…” kneeling down so he was directly in front of one of the boys he still considered part his, he laid a gentle hand over the fist that Dean had clenched. “Dean…they’re losing him.”

 

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

** Present Time: Grand Rapids Hospital: **

“Dean?”

The voice speaking to him just wasn’t penetrating the thick fog that was Dean Winchester’s current train of thought.

He’d been nearly numb since before leaving the national park behind several hours earlier, ever since Bobby Singer had spoken the words that Dean had hoped never to hear again.

“‘ _They’re losing him_.’”

Three words that once again since Dean’s world and mind tail-spinning out of control. He’d known that his younger brother’s injuries were probably more serious than he’d thought but had confidence that a hospital could help Sam.

The call from Sheriff Jodi Mills had twisted those hopes and now Dean sat still in a private room that no one, doctor, nurse, or friend dared to enter without invoking the young hunter’s wrath.

At least that was until the annoying voice finally began getting through to him and he felt the snarl coming on only to wince as a hand slapped the back of his head.

“Growl at me, boy, and I’ll give them a reason to do a  damn CT-scan on you,” Bobby growled, heaving dealt with testy, moody, and emotional Winchesters for more years than he liked to consider and fully admitted that both of these boys had gotten way to much of John’s stubbornness for his own good.

“Leave me alone, Bobby,” Dean sounded tired and figured he probably looked worse since he’d barely let the staff touch his own wounds and only had finally given in when Jodi Mills used her actual ‘Mom’ tone on him which no matter what is a lot scarier than Bobby any day. “I just…want to sit with him.”

Flashbacks to the time right after Cold Oak when Sam had been killed and Dean pushed him away came back to the older man. His concern for Dean back then had been with good reason considering what the idjit boy had done after Bobby had left him alone with his brother.

Those concerns were valid to him now as well since he could read the anguish, pain, and guilt even without Dean saying the words. “Dean, you need to get some rest,” he urged but knew the argument was useless. “It isn’t your fault. You did what you could.”

“What I could?” Dean repeated with a low almost self-mocking laugh. “What I could have done was not leave him alone in the first damn place. What I could’ve done was gotten there sooner and not wasted time when I did get to him,” he lifted his head from where he’d had it propped up in one hand while his other gripped the unmoving hand of his brother.

“I should’ve went in, shot both the goddamn bastards and got him out. That’s what I should’ve done, Bobby,” he finished with disgust at himself and hate for the two men who had caused this to happen. “How many times have I promised him that I’d keep him safe? He’s barely back from having his soul crammed back in and then this happened. I am responsible for him, Bobby.”

Supposing he should’ve seen that one coming, Bobby once again offered up a few choice words to John Winchester who had drilled it into his oldest son’s head that taking care of Sam was his number one priority and that if he failed then in some way shape or form it was a failure on Dean’s part.

“Son, you know Sam wouldn’t blame you,” he knew that was the wrong tact to take the second he noticed Dean’s jaw clenching. “Dean, you can’t do any more for him now. Just let it go and try to get some rest. You falling on your face or making that shoulder wound worse isn’t gonna help things.”

When Dean didn’t bother to reply and instead returned his attention to the still form in the bed, Bobby blew out a breath. He knew when not to kick a downed mule and instead of pushing further he laid a hand on Dean’s good shoulder.

“We’ll be outside if you want to get some rest or need anything,” he told him, adding under his breath as he left the room. “Like food, clean clothes, and someone to take that damn Colt offa you.”

Hearing the door click shut, Dean let out the breath he’d been carefully holding. He knew in his heart that Bobby meant well and that maybe even everything he said was true but to Dean it was all useless babble.

He’d sworn when Sam was six-months old to watch after him. He’d shielded and protected his baby brother as much as he could both from the real lives they led to their Dad’s stern ways.

Dean had tried to keep Sam as much in the dark about what their Dad really did as he could and still felt the sting of failure the Christmas he’d been twelve and Sam was eight and the wall of innocence had come crashing down.

Since that night, he’d struggled to keep Sam safe. To make certain his brother wasn’t locked into this life no matter what their Dad may have wanted.

Sam had wanted normal and if it had been the last thing Dean could give him then his little brother would one day have normal and Sam had gotten out.

“I should’ve let you stay out, Sammy,” he whispered, rubbing his tired and burning eyes while lightly squeezing the hand gripped in his. “If I could do all of this crap over, I’d make damn certain you stayed out and everyone stayed away from you.”

Even as he heard the words Dean knew they were false because he knew how much both angels and demons, Heaven and Hell, had needed them to be involved.

Sam’s life was screwed up even before he was born and Dean wished so much that his brother had never been told that little fact. That Sam could’ve been left with just a little innocence.

“ _Sonuvabitch_ ,” the frustration he felt wanted to explode but Dean held back while reaching next to him on the bedside table to lift the gold amulet on its black cord. “I’m sorry I tossed it away, Sam. I’m sorry all the angel crap almost made me toss us away and I swear, little brother, I will make this right. I will make this good again.”

The stress of recent days, the pain and shock of the bullet wound to his shoulder in addition to a cracked rib finally began catching up to him and Dean felt the urge to close his eyes almost too much to ignore.

Lowering the bed rail he reached up to card gentle fingers back through Sam’s hair, being careful to avoid the wounds there on instinct before leaning back in the low scooped back plastic chair to close his eyes for just a minute while still not releasing the grip on his brother’s hand.

 

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” he murmured before his own body gave in to sleep and as it pulled him under he missed the slender form of a dark haired young woman standing in the corner watching the brothers.

 

A small, almost sad smile played on Tessa’s lips as she neared the bed to gaze between the two mortals her boss was always griping about. “Natural selection sucks,” she spoke softly, knowing if Dean had been awake he’d understand but also knowing if he had been awake this would’ve been harder.

** Flashback: Fourteen hours earlier, Hospital in Grand Rapids: **

“Dean! You hold on now and don’t go ripping anyone apart before we see how bad it is!” Bobby Singer shouted but knew that it was useless since Dean had been on edge ever since they’d left the Chippewa National Forest for a speedy trip to Grand Rapids and the hospital.

With Dean’s injured shoulder, Bobby had downright refused to let the boy drive the Impala and had taken that chore upon himself since he was certain Dean would rip Rufus’s throat out if he’d tried to drive the car that very few people were allowed to touch, much less drive.

Ever since Jodi Mills had called to say that Sam Winchester’s condition was rapidly deteriorating, Dean had been one huge bundle of angry energy and the odds of him calming down anytime soon were low.

As soon as the Impala slowed to a stop in front of the Grand Rapids Hospital, Dean was off and running; ignoring Bobby’s shouts and the stares of several startled hospital staffers.

“Bobby, you think we should just knock that boy out and save the staff the trouble?” Rufus asked after parking his truck.

“Shut up you old fool,” Bobby growled, heading in to find Dean before he either killed someone or got himself tossed out of the hospital before even seeing what Sam’s condition was at the moment.

It didn’t take the two older hunters long to locate the nearly manic Winchester. They could hear him yelling from down the hall near the elevators and a quick look told Bobby that Dean wouldn’t be going anywhere until he calmed down.

Dean had the habit of running over most people who tried to get in his way of either helping or seeing his brother if he was hurt.

This time probably would’ve been no different since very few doctors or nurses argued with a highly ticked off Dean Winchester.

His issue came from the fact that he hadn’t encountered hospital staff or even security. Dean had run aground of a very firm, very stern, and equally stubborn Sheriff Jodi Mills and it was plain that she was not moving from where she had set up position outside the main set of elevators.

“Nope, uh-huh, forget all about it, hotshot,” she was saying in that very firm tone she used when playing Sheriff back in Sioux Falls. “You’re not going up there until (A) you calm your ass down and (B) have that bleeding shoulder looked at.”

“I’m as calm as I’m likely to get until I can see Sam and my shoulder can wait,” Dean snapped back, emotions flaring and his temper was close to the surface so dealing with the Sheriff was not high on his bucket list right then.

Jodi’s lips thinned in a way that Bobby Singer, who had been on the wrong end of her service revolver more than once, just knew was not good. “Dean, don’t make me hurt you,” she warned, easily sidestepping to block his path to the next elevator.

A look at the hard set of Dean’s jaw told Jodi that the young man was set to match her willpower to willpower which suited her just fine. Except she really did want him to see his brother and the doctor treating him but that required Dean to be calmer and to have his shoulder looked at.

That also meant she’d need to resort to her back-up plan. “Dean Winchester!” she snapped out in a sharp, cutting, no nonsense tone that had Dean’s eyes snapping back to her but also had Bobby and Rufus staring.

“You are going to settle your ass down and let a doctor stitch you back up before you even step foot on the floor where they’ve moved Sam and if you give me one ounce of lip I will show you exactly what I can do to you, young man!”

“Shiiit, I ain’t heard a tone like that since I was a kid and my Mother dragged me home by the ear one day,” Rufus whistled, impressed by the smaller woman’s guts to stand up to an enraged Dean and noticed that Bobby had tensed as if in preparation to move fast.

Dean, in fact, hadn’t heard a tone like that in years…not since his Mom had died. Jodi had resorted to using her ‘Mom’ tone on him and despite his desire to see Sam, to learn how bad his brother was; he found the tactic working when he slowly backed down.

“Y’know, not even my Dad could use that tone very well,” he remarked after a couple of tense moments. “Him, I usually chose to ignore if I had to choose between obeying it or getting to Sammy.”

Understanding how much he was hurting and how much of his own fears he was struggling to hide, Jodi reached up to place both hands on Dean’s face much like she would’ve her own late son and offered a gentle smile.

“Dads never can use Mom tone as well,” she told him with a smile. “We’re just born with it. I bet your Mom knew how to use it.”

Recalling the few times in the short four years he had with Mary Winchester, Dean knew that she was an expert with Mom tone and that even his own Dad jumped when she used it. “Yeah,” he murmured shakily, covering one of her hands with his in a gesture of peace. “She was and so are you.”

Bobby let out a breath as Jodi waved down a white coated doctor she knew by name and followed along to a side room in case Dean got testy again.

“That boy is gonna lose it, Bobby,” Rufus warned grimly, seeing the blow-up coming.

“Yeah, and I just have to hope I can head him off before that blow up leads to a medic losing any vital organs,” Bobby replied, knowing the next few hours were not going to be fun.

An hour and a half later found Dean grumbling about stupid doctors, stupid gunshot wounds and pushy Sheriff’s dictating orders to him.

“Now can I go see my brother…Mother?” he asked with no small amount of sarcasm that merely had Jodi Mills grinning at him but motioned to the elevator.

“Don’t rip Dr. McFadden’s head off in the first ten seconds,” she ordered, catching Bobby’s eyes and knowing both older hunters had already been to see the Doctor in charge of Sam Winchester’s case.

Stepping out onto the floor that was clearly intensive care reminded Dean way too much of the time after the semi-truck rammed into the Impala.

Of course, he wasn’t fond of hospitals anyway since he’d seen too many of them growing up either when his Dad had been hurt or he or Sam had gotten injured too badly that John had to take his boys to a hospital.

This time felt the same but something in his gut was telling Dean that things weren’t good and that was before he came face to face with a grim faced white coated doctor.

“Dr. McFadden, this is Sam’s brother, Dean,” Jodi began, laying a hand on Dean’s arm. “You’ve met Bobby and Rufus.”

Liam McFadden had been a physician for more than thirty years. He’d been working in Grand Rapids for more than ten and in those years he’d seen some serious cases come through his doors but it had been a long time since he’d had a case as bad or probably as futile as the one he had in Sam Winchester.

He also considered himself a good judge of character and could read the brother instantly, knowing that this one would not be very accepting of the news he was about to give.

“How’s Sammy?” Dean asked, shooting glances between the doctor and those around him but frowned the moment he noticed that Bobby wouldn’t meet his gaze and Rufus found the coffee in his hand very interesting. “Doc? How’s my brother?”

“Mr. Winchester, let’s sit down,” McFadden urged, motioning to a waiting room off to the side but Dean’s whole body had gone rigid. “Son, let me explain before you see…”

“I want to see my brother…now,” Dean stressed firmly, now his alarm was showing more. “Jodi told Bobby you guys were losing him. What the hell does that mean and how is he?”

Exchanging grim looks with Bobby, the doctor slowly nodded down the hall. “Your brother’s injuries are more severe than we first thought,” he began, pushing open the door to a private ICU room. “We’ve done all we can but…”

The word ‘but’ always made Dean tense since it usually meant bad news. He was halfway tempted to grab the doctor by the throat when the door opened and he had a hard time doing anything the second his eyes landed on the bed and Sam.

His brother had looked bad the last time Dean had seen him and as hard as it was for Dean to believe Sam actually looked worse in the hospital bed.

His brother could always look smaller than he really was when he was hurt but this time took Dean back to when Sam was younger and hurt. The swelling on Sam’s face had left it puffy but also black and purplish in color.

The white bandages that carefully wrapped his head were still stained red from leftover bleeding through the stitches. Most of the burns, cuts, welts and bruises had been covered by either bandages or the blanket covering Sam but what really worried Dean aside from the way the machines were sounding was the way his brother’s right leg and knee looked.

“How bad is he really?” Dean asked, stepping up to the bed and almost praying to see his little brother’s normal hazel puppy dog eyes staring up at him. “I know…how bad he was so how bad is he now? How’s his leg?”

McFadden took his time looking at the chart in his hand even though he knew it by heart already. “Your brother was subjected to some pretty serious abuse in a short amount of time,” he began slowly, meeting the waiting gaze and saw the hope still in them. “All and all, aside from the lack of nutrition or fluids, he has a complete set of broken ribs. He’s suffering from massive internal trauma which is why he was coughing up blood and that is also what is one of our chief concerns,

“Sam’s head took several hits, the deepest one cracked it with enough force that there is some bleeding and swelling that we can’t quite pin down. The burns he’s sustained have gotten infected and the one infected his blood but the worst of his wounds as you can guess is his leg.”

Dean’s brain was struggling to process what was being said and looking for even a tiny glimmer of hope in the doctor’s words when the man came up to the bed to carefully move the blanket aside that covered the clearly broken and ruined right leg his brother had.

He hadn’t seen the actual knee or leg since he hadn’t had the guts to cut Sam’s jeans away but Dean had guessed it had been broken. As he looked at it know, his stomach felt like doing a serious of jumps into his throat.

Both the right leg and knee had been shattered. The knee itself was swelled so severally that if Dean hadn’t known that was what it was he wouldn’t have been able to tell. It was cleared of blood but the ripped skin where a piece of bone was still protruding was making him sick.

“Why didn’t you set it while you had him in surgery?” he demanded, fingers clenching into fists and only a low cough from Bobby kept him from grabbing the man’s throat. “Why aren’t you doing anything for him? You’re a damn doctor. You’re supposed to help people not let them…”

“Dean, the swelling on Sam’s brain may be relieved with additional surgery but we can’t pinpoint the exact spot of the bleeder either there or internally,” McFadden replied, knowing the young man needed to be told but not sure how to do it. “His leg…the only way we can save his leg would be to amputate it above the knee and then…”

“Dean!” Bobby snapped the moment Dean lunged to jerk the doctor away from the bed and threw him bodily against the wall.

The fear of what was coming seemed to swell with that last comment and Dean’s barely held temper snapped and only a firm grip on his arm as Bobby and Rufus both grabbed ahold of him kept him from slamming a closed fist through the doctor’s face.

“You are not cutting his leg off!” he yelled, gut wrenching terror hitting him at even the thought. “Fix him!”

“Dean, stop,” Jodi urged quietly, clearly she’d been trying to fight against the tears that wanted to come and recognizing the hunter’s breaking emotions as a mixture of fear, hurt, anguish, and guilt.

Bobby and Rufus managed to get Dean to back off but only a flat hand to the chest kept him from trying again and after giving the doctor a questioning look and getting a grim shake of the head in return did Bobby do what he’d prayed since Cold Oak he would never have to do again.

“Dean, listen to me,” he urged grimly, recognizing the panic in the boy’s eyes which told him that Dean was slowly realizing what was coming. “If they don’t take the leg, the trauma, the infection will kill Sam,” he spoke slowly but softly to make certain his words got through. “Sam’s bleeding inside, boy. The head trauma will probably put him into a coma if the infections in his blood don’t kill him first. You need to listen to the Doc about the choices you still have.”

“Choices?” Dean thought that was a joke since he couldn’t see any choices that didn’t leave him without the brother he’d sworn all of Sam’s life to protect. “What damn choices, Bobby?” he demanded, glaring daggers at McFadden while his gaze went straight back to Sam and his voice dropped to the ragged, close to breaking one very few people ever heard. “Let them cut my brother’s leg off?

“Watch him become a vegetable if they can’t find where he’s bleeding? Let him wake up in agony from all the pain he’ll be in because I was the son of bitch who cared too much about making the bastard who hurt him pay than getting him the help I knew he needed?” he stepped back closer to the bed and carefully let his hand lay over the one closest to him while making himself swallow the lump in his throat. “Or sit here and watch him die because that is what you’re leading up to, isn’t it, Doc?”

McFadden took a deep breath while sitting the chart aside to address Dean fully. “Your options are to let us amputate and try to relieve the swelling which may give him a 30% chance of surviving but I won’t give you high odds on his waking up or…” he paused to allow the young hunter to work through the emotions that were now clearly showing on his face before continuing. “…or letting us give him something to dull the pain and if you don’t want to prolong this, let him go.”

“Oh, Sweet Jesus,” Rufus groaned, seeing the doctor already going headfirst out the window. “Man, you do relieve what you just said to him, right?”

Dean actually respected the doctor’s honesty even while his chest was aching from grief he’d hoped he would never feel this badly again.

When Sam had been stabbed in the back at Cold Oak and died, Dean’s emotions had driven him to make the deal that had ultimately sent both Winchesters down a bad path.

The year that Dean believed Sam was stuck in the Cage with Lucifer and Michael had been a similar gut wrenching loss for Dean who had been close to choosing between two very dangerous options before learning the truth.

Now as he pulled a chair closer to the bed to sit beside his brother, he stared at the still innocent looking face of his younger brother and remembered the past so clearly.

He recalled the day his Mom and Dad brought his chubby baby brother home for the first time, he could remember the first time he’d sworn to always look after and protect Sam.

“Sammy,” he whispered, feeling the eyes on him and knowing he needed to make a choice but also knowing whatever choice he made it would always be his fault this happened.

“Roy used his hatred for me and what happened years ago to hurt Sam,” if he cared that his voice was gruff from emotion, Dean didn’t show it as he carefully squeezed the limp hand and still could see the rope marks on Sam’s wrists. “If I would’ve handled the son of a bitch after that damn mess in Heaven happened, he wouldn’t have been able to do this to him. Sam was never supposed to be in this position. I was supposed to protect the kid, not be the one making the choice to let him die or stay in a coma.”

“Dean, don’t do this,” Bobby urged, seeing that Jodi had slipped out of the room when she didn’t want her own tears to make Dean feel worse. “You know the risks and so does Sam. He wouldn’t blame you for this.”

“No, he wouldn’t blame me,” Dean agreed bitterly, knowing that his brother wouldn’t blame him for what happened or for the choices he had to make now.

Sam wouldn’t blame him. Dean just knew that he’d blame himself enough for the both of them. “After that mess with the semi happened, after Dad died, Sam and I…talked about what to do if anything like this happened,” though at the time Dean knew he’d been thinking their roles would be reversed. “If the odds were slim or one of us were hurt too badly then the other was to…let go.”

Looking up at Bobby the unshed tears glistened in Dean’s eyes as he made himself make the choice. “I won’t let you cut him but you will give him another 24 hours to show any improvement before I make the other choice,” he spoke to McFadden without looking at him, pushing shakily to his feet as he suddenly felt the need to get air. “Sammy’s stronger than people think and if anyone can come out of this it’s my pain in the ass little brother.

“Touch him before then and you’ll be the first doctor in history to need your own damn ER,” he warned, pushing out the door to find even the tiniest amount of space to let loose with the emotions that were threatening to come.

“Does he realize the odds of his brother living out the night are slim?” McFadden wondered, knowing he couldn’t do anything without Dean’s permission.

Bobby scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck while taking another look at Sam’s battered and still body before sighing. “Yeah, he knows that, Doc,” he replied grimly, meeting Rufus’s eyes. “Dean’ll be back in here in less than five minutes and he’ll stay with Sam until it’s over. Just leave ‘em alone cause you and your staff will not want to deal with that boy in the meantime.”

McFadden clearly understood as he nodded, leaving the men in order to go inform the nursing staff of the changes.

“Dean won’t handle this, Bobby,” Rufus stated knowingly. “He’ll either do something stupid to get himself killed or…”

“Yeah, go find Sheriff Mills and I’ll go find that idjit,” Bobby muttered, leaving the room and missing the sound that entered the room as the door was closing.

The sounds of the machines hissing, dripping or beeping told the trench coated man who had appeared where he was and a single look told him why.

Since the Apocalypse ended, Castiel had been fighting for control of Heaven and the battle wasn’t going his way. He’d been forced to make certain choices, decisions that he didn’t always like but considered them vital to the greater good.

He’d been trying to keep the Winchesters out of it as much as he could but now things were requiring him to involve his former allies in ways that the Angel knew that Dean would not approve of.

Death returning Sam’s soul was an issue for Castiel though he had yet to tell the older Winchester why he’d been so reluctant to do so himself.

He was also aware that Death had set Dean loose with a clue about the worth of souls and why they were so important. That little hint and the concern over Sam keeping his newly returned soul was making Dean very dangerous to Castiel’s actions.

Stepping closer to the bed, he took in Sam’s brutal injuries and could tell how close to the edge the younger Winchester was. It wouldn’t take much to hasten it and that would serve as a distraction to Dean since Castiel understood all too well the deep bond the brothers had.

He also understood that loosing Sam like this would keep Dean from interfering in what was to come. The Angel could feel Dean’s emotions and felt the anguish and guilt he was suffering.

Sam’s death would forever hurt Dean which left Castiel his own choice to make. “I’m sorry, Sam,” he whispered, slowly moving a hand to lay it flat in Sam’s barely moving chest. “You won’t feel any pain…”

 

** TBC **


	6. Chapter 6

** Flashback, continued: **

The softly bleeping heart monitor attached to Sam Winchester seemed to become slightly louder as the hand of a trench coat wearing Angel laid flat.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Castiel murmured, wishing there was some other way to accomplish his goals when the sound of a lighter top flicking open made him stop. “Dean.”

“I’m sorry too, Cas. Now get the hell away from my brother before I send you back to Heaven the goddamn fast way,” Dean Winchester’s voice was his well and truly pissed one, the voice he only got when someone screwed with either his car or his brother.

Dean didn’t believe in premonitions or feelings or anything of that type but yet he couldn’t deny that something had urged him to go out to the trunk of the Impala before returning to Sam’s room to retrieve something.

Stepping into the room, one single look had told him that getting the small flask of Holy Oil had probably been a wise choice since it didn’t take him long to guess what the hell was happening.

“Dean, this isn’t what it looks like,” Castiel was slow to turn but he still kept his hand on Sam’s chest, moving it only when the lighter lit. “You’re upset and…”

“Lose the upper Angel talk, Cas,” Dean snapped, stepping forward and jerking his head to the side in a way to demonstrate that the Angel needed to move. “I’m not a stupid child or any other mortal you can talk down to. I’ve known you and I’ve seen you figure out how to use emotions and now I’ve seen you go back to the cold, pure Angel side you used when we first met.

“Ever since you got the gig to be Heaven’s new Sheriff you’ve been playing ice-cold, for the betterment of mankind, do whatever needed to be done to get it done including torturing a kid and not bothering to tell me that my kid brother hadn’t returned from the Cage with a soul,” Dean’s eyes were glittering since he still remembered the time after Death had put Sam’s soul back in and how upset his Angel pal had been. He also recalled his words.

A quick look to see that the monitors had calmed down once Castiel had stepped away allowed Dean’s attention to refocus on the Angel and only true restraint had him not using the Holy Oil right then.

“Five seconds to tell me exactly what the hell you were about to do to Sam and if you even start to rationalize what it looked like to me t you were going to do then prepare to be flash fried extra crispy,” he snapped, not lowering either the bottle of oil or the lighter. “Talk, Cas!”

Expecting Dean to be angry, Castiel considered his options. Unlike most of the garrison who underestimated humans in general and Winchesters in particular, he did understand Dean and he was well aware that Dean would do exactly what he promised.

“I felt your…angst and came to see if I could do anything to help,” he spoke evenly, not missing the way Dean had placed himself between himself and Sam. “Sam’s injuries are…grievous if not life threatening if left unchecked.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Dean shot back with an eye roll that he often bitched at Sam for using. “Couple sadistic bastards nailed him and I couldn’t get him help fast enough so now my options are pretty limited unless of course you were actually planning on healing him?”

As Dean’s steady gaze locked onto his, Castiel felt unable to meet it and dropped his eyes to the floor for only a second but knew it was enough to give the hunter the answer he’d been seeking.

“Didn’t think so,” Dean didn’t sound surprised but the tone of disappointment was still present since after all they’d been through he didn’t really think the Angel would go this far. “Get out, Cas.”

“Dean, I know what you think but I wouldn’t…”

“Bullshit!” this time the anger was plain and despite knowing the power Castiel could turn against him, Dean was in his face. “Within two days of meeting me you threatened to handle Sam if I couldn’t. You knew for a goddamn year that he was out of the Cage and more than likely missing a soul and didn’t see fit to tell me even though you knew or had to know how close to the edge I was getting,” he shouted, going on without giving the Angel a chance to speak.

“You did nothing to help me get his soul back even though Sam was a micro-inch away from going full on Terminator. Then when Death did get it from wherever it was, and somehow just by the way Death was acting I don’t think he found Sammy’s soul in the Cage, you did everything but stomp your feet and throw a tantrum,” Dean cocked his head as he remembered that day in the Panic Room.

“You said I would’ve been better off killing my brother and y’know, I stopped trusting you near him from that moment,” stepping back slowly, he kept his eyes on the Angel. “Now, tell me you weren’t about to kill him.”

The silence that lasted in the room was long and heavy but after several moments, Castiel’s head moved in a simple nod that could’ve meant any number of things but it was more the way he avoided Dean’s eyes that gaze the true answer.

“You know he’s dying, Dean,” Castiel hoped to still use reason to salvage this without getting blown out of the room. “Sam’s injuries have left him far worse than even you were hurt years ago. His leg is ruined beyond repair and even if that doesn’t kill him and he wakes up, his brain capacity will be no more than that of a toddler,” he remarked easily, trying to use a calm, logical tone but quickly guessed that might not have been his best choice. “Dean.”

“You could heal him with a touch. So instead of telling me what’s wrong with my brother, why don’t you tell me why you won’t heal him?” Dean challenged. “Give me the best logical and reasonable answer to that since you of nearly anyone else are aware of what I’m willing to do or give up for Sam’s life.

Not expecting Dean to push for an answer, Castiel wasn’t certain what to say for a moment then sighed much like a mortal would when backed into a corner. “Dean, you know how fragile the natural order of things can be,” he began carefully, seeing the way Dean’s hand clenched around his lighter. “Sam was supposed to have died long ago and if he had then none of this would’ve happened. I’m trying to fix things in Heaven that might not have happened if…”

“ _Sonuvabitch_ ,” now Dean’s tone was mixed between amusement and disgust. “Now you’re blaming us for what happened? Hello? You were there when we were told multiple times that our lives were handpicked to be vessels for those two assholes? So, care to try again or should I just Holy Oil your ass away from my brother?”

“Do you honestly think Sam’s mind will be able to handle this strain?” Castiel demanded, at times failing to understand the mind of mortals. “I told you what his soul is like now. His soul never should have been messed with or…”

“Finish it and burn,” Dean warned gruffly, flicking his lighter back to life. “I spent forty Hell years in that Pit. You and your Angels dragged me out with everything intact. Why did my little brother’s soul get left behind? You always said, hell, Zachariah always said, there were reasons for everything…so what the hell was the reason for Sam to lose his soul and for you to not want him alive now that he has it?” he wondered.

Not even attempting to go near that question because he knew that no matter what he said that Dean would read the truth so finally Castiel took a step back. “I can’t help him in the way you want me to, Dean. It’s not possible at this juncture. You should have taken my advice earlier and either left Sam the way he was or…killed him before his soul was returned.”

“Either way it goes, you’ll get that wish,” Dean replied, placing the Holy Oil by the stand by the bed to move the chair closer to it. “I won’t let them cut into him like that since like you said, if the leg doesn’t kill him his mind is still too damaged and it would break my heart to see him suffer like that,” he slid a look over to the Angel as if considering.

“Sammy’s my brother. I went to Hell for him, I did what I did in Hell to protect him and even today if I had the option of going back just to save his life…I would in a damn heartbeat,” Dean shifted his gaze between Sam and Castiel. “Whatever the hell you’re doing up there, I don’t give a crap but I will tell you one thing and I want you to understand me perfectly, Cas…”

Standing up, there was no mistaking the firmness in his eyes or the strength of conviction as Dean faced his friend. “If by some weird act of fate or a miracle happens and Sam manages to make it, I’d better not ever get the vibe or idea that he’s in danger from you or anyone else in the Angel Patrol because the second that happens all bets are off and I will Molotov your feathered asses back where you came from,” he promised firmly, lifting a brow. “We have an understanding?”

“Yes, Dean. I understand,” Castiel did and knew the man would carry it out. “Do you want…”

“I want to be alone,” Dean cut off the next offer, just wanting to be alone with his brother for whatever time they had left and knowing he’d feel safer with the Angel long gone. “And Cas?” he called before Castiel could vanish. “I will have this room warded so think twice before trying this crap again.”

The sound of feathers vanishing allowed Dean to release the breath he’d been holding and sit back down to watch Sam, almost willing his brother to open his eyes or move a finger.

“Hey, Sammy,” he began quietly, reaching to lightly grasp the hand closest to him and held it. “C’mon, little brother, I know you and I know you can fight this. I know that somehow you can beat this,” he watched Sam’s bruised face for any sign of reaction and with each moment that passed without any reaction a little piece of Dean’s hope faded.

Feeling his eyes burn, Dean wasn’t sure if it was from the exhaustion he was feeling or the tears that he knew wanted to come. “Y’know, in Cold Oak we had a similar talk only you were dead and I doubt if you heard me. Hell, I don’t even know if you can hear me now but if you can then I need you to know a couple things,”

“I know we’ve had some issues since I came back from Hell and the whole mess with Ruby, the Apocalypse and all that happened and I know you think I lost faith in you but Sammy…I never lost faith in you. I lost it in me,” Dean took the black rubber bracelet out of his pocket and carefully slid it back on his brother’s wrist as he struggled to find the words he wanted.

“Okay, the no chick-flick rule is being suspended for the moment. “I told you some of the things I did in Hell but not everything and I still won’t because those are my crosses to bear but when I came back it was so hard for me to face you knowing those things and knowing that my kid brother didn’t seem to need me to watch his back anymore,” he shook his head wryly, thinking back to the fights, the misunderstandings they’d had only a few years ago compared to how close they had once been.

Tightening his fingers just a little, Dean wished it could be that simple again. He wished he could give Sam that simplicity again but knew too much had happened for both of them to allow that. “I came back hurt but I couldn’t let myself let you see how much or let you help no matter how much you tried so when it became clear what was happening with Ruby I did what I always did when hurt. I hurt back and I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m sorry that by hurting you I let you think you were a disappointment.

“You were never a disappointment, Sam. You were and always will be my little brother and…I love you,” he swallowed the lump that saying those words brought because he knew how few times his brother had heard them either growing up or more recently. “I wish I could go back and find some way to keep this from happening. I wish that I had dealt with Walt before he could’ve done this and I wish to God that I knew some way to help you now but I don’t.

“Your big brother screwed up again, Sammy. I keep promising to keep you safe, to make it good but no matter how hard I try you keep paying the price for my mistakes,” Dean ran his free hand up to brush the wetness off his face, ignoring the tears as he focused on his brother. “You’re always paying the price for my mistakes and this time I don’t know how to make it right for you…unless I can make a deal that not even Crowley can refuse.”

Dean figured if anything might break through to his injured sibling it would be that idea because while he might have only been saying it to see if Sam would respond, the idea actually wasn’t that far from Dean’s thoughts right then.

When Sam failed to respond or even show any difference, Dean let his forehead rest on the rail on the bed. “Okay, Sammy. I know the choice I need to make and I know the one you’d want me to make. So here’s the plan kiddo, we wait it out and by tomorrow night if there’s no change or you start getting worse…we’ll go see Mom,” he decided, fully accepting that he wouldn’t make this choice if he wasn’t prepared to follow because that had always been his plan if he hadn’t learned that Sam was out of the Cage.

“If we’re gonna do this then we’ll do it together,” he remembered another time he’d said those words to his brother and Dean knew he’d never be able to handle the guilt if he lost his brother. “Wake up for me, Sam.”

Dean’s fingers curled tighter when he heard the door open and knew Bobby had entered the room. He understood the older man’s concern and doubted very much if Bobby would like his plans so he chose to keep those to himself for the moment while the smallest part of him still maintained the hope that someone would step in to save his brother.

** Present: Sam’s Hospital Room, Grand Rapids, Michigan: **

Tessa was a Reaper, a Harbinger of Death, who came to claim souls for her boss. A petite looking young woman with short black hair, she’d first met Dean after the semi-truck slammed into the Impala and put him into a coma.

Dean Winchester was one of the few people who had ever slipped past her and she often said she looked forward to the day when she did come to escort him over to the other side.

That, however, was a job for another day. She was in the Grand Rapids hospital with another Winchester in mind.

Standing next to the bed, she gazed between the brothers and could read the angst and guilt on Dean even in his uneasy sleep.

Tessa had seen the lengths these two would go to for one another and she knew losing Sam would probably make it sooner rather than later that she’d be collecting Dean because she had no doubts that if he didn’t do it himself, the rather headstrong hunter would get himself killed within a week of Sam’s death.

A look at Sam’s injuries explained why another of her kind had been sent to the general area earlier only she knew he’d taken his charge to another place than where Sam was destined to go.

“Hello, Sam,” she greeted softly, lightly brushing a gentle hand back over his forehead and felt the fever raging under her hand.

While with Dean she felt his anguish and guilt, in Sam she picked up different emotions. Pain, certainly, but she also could feel fear and… “Hump, no wonder Dean killed the man,” she mused, gazing over at Dean and noticed the single tear that slid free in his sleep and made a choice.

Normally her assignment was to come and collect the soul of one who was crossing. Her boss had left her with strict orders this time but she’d found there was always a little wiggle room.

Laying a hand over Sam’s heart, Tessa focused to find what she wanted…

** In the Subconscious of Sam Winchester: **

Stepping into the modest looking family home, Tessa’s surprise showed on her face as she looked around. She’d wanted to see and speak with Sam and had felt the smallest glimmer of his mind still intact, following that she’d expected to find his subconscious somewhere a bit more…familiar.

“This is Lawrence.”

Turning at the voice, Tessa found Sam sitting in the corner of the sofa staring at photos he’d clearly taken from the wall.

While he looked a little better in here than he did in the real world, she knew his wounds were still there and that Sam was well aware of who she was and probably why she was there.

“Hello, Sam,” she smiled easily, to put him at ease since she had a hunch meeting a Reaper wasn’t an easy thing for anyone, even someone who had seen and done so much. “Do you remember me?”

“You’re Tessa, the Reaper who tried to take Dean that time,” Sam replied quietly, still not lifting his eyes from the photo in his hands. “Am I dead?”

Surprised by the almost lack of tone, Tessa sat on the edge of the sofa beside him and noticed that the photos were of a family. “Where are we, Sam?” she asked, beginning to suspect but curious as to what he’d say. “You said this was Lawrence. What is that?”

Now his hazel eyes did lift and she could see the pain and fear reflected deep inside but she also saw something else…longing. “Dean’s home,” he told her plainly as if it made all the sense in the world to him. “This is where Dean grew up until he was four and the fire happened and…our Mom…died. Am I dead, Tessa?” he asked again, this time his voice shook.

“No, not yet,” she replied, meaning his time was close but yet he hadn’t crossed yet. “This was your home then too?”

“My home was the Impala or whatever motel Dad chose or wherever Dean was,” Sam corrected, fingers lightly tracing over the glass frame as if tracing the people in that photo. “I was six months old when the fire happened. I don’t remember this as home but Dean does. Where is Dean?” he asked suddenly as if becoming agitated.

Understanding some but not all, Tessa chose to leave that alone for the moment to focus on Sam and the reason she’d wanted to speak with him.

“Dean’s in the hospital room with you,” she told him, not surprised to see him relax a little with knowing that his brother was with him. “Sam, do you know what happened to you? Do you know how bad your hurt?”

“I have a Reaper talking to me so I have a good idea how bad I am,” Sam stated, setting the photo aside to look at her fully to consider her other question. “I remember Walt and Roy attacking at Bobby’s. I remember most of what I wish I didn’t and I remember hearing my brother…then things start to get hazy around the time I figure Walt shattered my leg,” he could feel the pain and knew what was happening but fought to hide how much that scared him. “How’s Dean?”

Tessa could’ve nagged her head against something. Here was a boy on the verge of crossing over in Death and his biggest question was about his brother. “Gunshot wound and a cracked rib but his worst wound isn’t physical, Sam. You know how he’ll take it when you cross. He blames himself.”

“This wasn’t his fault, Tessa,” Sam told her but knew his brother and knew that she was right. Dean would blame himself for this. “Walt’s hated us for years, from back when I was a kid and it just got worse. If our grandfather hired him to go after us then it’s Samuel’s fault, not Dean’s. Tell him that.”

“Right, I’ll be lucky to get out of this without him finding a way to kill me,” the Reaper scoffed, placing a hand on Sam’s and was surprised to feel warmth rather than the cold she was accustomed. “Sam, you’re hurt but you can survive if they deal with the poison from the infected leg. You’d still be hurt and there could possibly be some brain damage but…”

“Good things to tell me if you’re trying to talk me into fighting to live,” Sam offered a small smile, reaching to touch something on his wrist but dropped his hand when nothing was there. “I know how bad I’m hurt, Tessa. I know the outcome of those injuries. Amputate my leg, possibly stop the internal bleeding and even if the doctors can stop the brain swelling or find the bleeding up there the beating I took is still going to leave me barely able to think much less communicate,” he frowned as something came to him. “What’s Dean’s choice?”

Since she was there, she had a hunch what the older Winchester had chosen. Though she also had a hunch what else he was planning. “I don’t think he’ll let you suffer, Sam. He’s hurting because of it and I don’t think you’ll be alone long but if you could, would you live?”

“As a burden to Dean and Bobby?” Sam bit his lip as he pushed to his feet, having to grab for the couch arm to stay steady as phantom pain in his leg reminded him that he was in bad shape. “I know what we told Bobby after he was stabbed but that was just a wheelchair. This would be way more and Dean would never forgive himself every time he’d look at me.

“Oh, I’m not saying Dean wouldn’t be there because he would be but I’d be a liability to him. We have too many enemies and nearly every one of those know that to hurt my brother all they have to do is hurt me,” Sam laughed sarcastically. “Clearly since that’s what Walt did. He wanted to hurt Dean and used me to do it.”

Walking to the steps that would lead him upstairs and to the nursery where his nightmares began, Sam sat on the steps to look at Tessa. “I love my brother, Tessa. I know he might not always think that or know that despite it all he is still my big brother and that I will always look up to him but…I’m scared.”

Between the two Winchesters, Tessa knew that Sam would be the one who would admit that quicker. “I know,” she assured him, kneeling down. “Dying can be scary but I can promise you that there will be no more pain, no more fear.”

“I’m not scared of dying…well, I am but that’s that what I meant,” Sam frowned, dropping his eyes to the battered, crumpled photo he’d been clinging to. “I’m scared for my brother, Tessa. I know in my heart that Dean’s emotions, his guilt and anger, will drive him to do something crazy and I don’t want him to die.

“I’m scared to wake up because I don’t want the pain, the memories of everything else that happened. I don’t want to force Dean to make that choice to let them take my leg,” he went on, gripping the photo of him and Dean with their parents as he was gripping his brother’s hand. “If I stay like I am it’ll end. You’re here so I know that’s what’s meant to be but if I wake up, even if I can’t speak or make him understand if I’m awake Dean won’t let me die.

“He will fight tooth and nail to save me even if it means doing what he knows I wouldn’t want because that’s how he is,” Sam’s hazel eyes were large and shining as he struggled with the emotions and fears building. “I want to die to avoid the pain, to avoid hurting him by making him relive this over and over but…I also know if I die that Dean won’t survive it. Will he?”

Her throat felt tight and she’d been claiming souls for more years than even she could recall but watching the pain in this young man’s eyes as he struggled between what he knew was right, what he wanted and what was best for his brother tore at her.

“No, he won’t,” she was forced to admit, seeing a thin image already in her mind. “If you die then within a week, two at the most, Dean will go on a hunt before he was ready and his recklessness will claim him. Sam, you’re on a crossline as we call it. With proper treatment, you would live but you need to wake up.”

Sam could feel the pain; he could also still see the memories of how he’d received those wounds. He knew he’d been hurt worse than Dean had first seen but he also knew there were some things his brother would never learn of if he could help it.

Dean had been protecting him for as long as Sam could remember. Even when they’d been fighting his brother had been there, except for the time that Sam had pushed him away. Even after the whole vampire thing, Dean had still looked after him when Sam would’ve tossed his own ass out the door.

Now Sam had to make the choice of waking up, living with agony and memory in a body that would probably never heal or letting go and praying that Bobby could keep his brother from self-destructing.

He felt Tessa’s hand on his arm and knew his time was up. Staring at the photo, Sam’s mind locked onto the night at Stanford when his brother had come to get him.

The cocky grin, the snarky comments, all were pure Dean and all were things that Sam had been missing the four years he’d been away from his family.

It was that image that Sam wanted to remember as he made his next choice. He didn’t want to remember the pain or guilt he’d seen on his brother’s face up in the park.

“Tessa, tell him…tell Dean that I…well, tell him to update his tape collection,” Sam offered a shaky smile as he seen her look of understanding. “Tell him…”

“He knows, Sam,” Tessa assured him, holding out a hand. “Take my hand and we’ll see what happens.”

Looking at the slim hand held out to him, Sam took another look around the home that he would’ve grown up in then thought of his brother again before reaching a shaking hand up. “Dean,” he whispered, feeling an odd energy surge through his body then nothing except…

 

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

** Sam Winchester’s Hospital Room, Grand Rapids, Michigan: **

Tessa sighed, keeping her hand on the still chest of Sam Winchester. This hadn’t been her most difficult case but it certainly came close.

She knew her boss had taken a special interest in the Winchester brothers since these two had been mucking up the natural order of things for quite some time but even she wasn’t certain if Death had made the right choice this time.

Keeping her eyes on Sam for a moment longer, Tessa knew she’d allowed herself to get too distracted even before she heard the pistol cocking and a grip much stronger than she thought possible at the moment grabbed the wrist of the hand she still had on Sam’s chest.

“I was wondering if you’d wake up,” she sighed, moving her eyes from the peaceful face of Sam over to the more than furious face of his pissed off older brother. “You had to know I’d come.”

Hating to fall asleep in a chair, much less the chairs in most hospitals, Dean had jerked awake when something warned him that he wasn’t alone in his brother’s room.

It took all of five seconds for him to recognize the slender raven haired young woman touching his brother and less than that to go from half asleep and cranky to fully awake and fully pissed off.

“I just got into a screaming match with an Angel who could kill me with a blink!” he snapped, pushing to his feet and dragging her away from Sam all in one move; all the while not considering what Tessa could really do if she wanted to. “I fall asleep for a few minutes and you sneak in? You didn’t have the goddamn right to take him, Tessa!”

She’d seen a lot of different sides to Dean Winchester since meeting him but this was one she hadn’t seen before, the scared older brother who had just lost the only thing left in the world that he cared anything for. “Dean…”

Waking up to see Tessa and to realize what she’d done had forced a mixture of emotions to come out all at once and now he was at a loss to what he was supposed to do. “He wouldn’t have died, Tessa. Sam wasn’t going to die,” he argued, not even aware of when she got her wrist free or that she reached to take his pistol to sit it aside as he paced the room now like a caged lion.

“ _Sonuvabitch_!” he slammed the fist of his injured shoulder into the wall but didn’t take notice of either his now bloody knuckles or the hole in the wall. “He was not going to die!”

“Dean, Sam was hurt and without that surgery…” Tessa began when Dean’s pain-filled eyes locked onto hers before he dropped next to the bed and she got it. “You were going to let them…take his leg?” she whispered, not seeing this.

Pain, loss, and anger were all clear of Dean’s rugged face as he shot the Reaper a look as if she’d lost her mind. “He’s my baby brother! Of course I would’ve have if it meant saving his life!” he yelled, having come to that decision before falling to sleep. “Did I know what it would mean for him? For me? Hell, yes, I knew that but I didn’t care. He was Sammy, he’s been my pain in the ass little brother since my Mom put him in my arms for the first time and _you_ had no damn right to take him like this!”

Once again just when she thought she had them figured out the Winchester brothers never failed to surprise her. “You would have taken all that on?” she asked curiously, stepping closer but still keeping a safe distance but knew by this point Dean’s grief was too strong. “You knew even with the leg gone, his mind might never heal?”

“What part of ‘he’s my brother’ aren’t you getting, babe?” Dean shot back, fury now overtaking grief for the moment as he pushed back to his feet with a glare for the Reaper. “This is your boss’s idea of figuring out the big mystery? He should know that I won’t do a damn thing without Sam so you may as well save as both the hassles and take me now.”

“I…can’t do that, Dean,” Tessa replied, having seen this reaction coming and hoping she could head it off before the full blown confrontation happened. “It isn’t your time.”

“Isn’t my time?” he repeated, not sure he’d heard that right. “You just killed my brother, a kid I’ve given my soul for, and you say this isn’t my time?”

Looking around, Dean spotted his Colt and grabbed it before Tessa could think to move it or stop him. “Tell me that after I’ve put a round from this in my skull cause I will be damned if I’ll keep doing this crap without the kid I promised to look after,” he told her seriously.

“Dean, wait a minute!” Tessa urged, stepping forward only to pause. “You don’t want to do that.”

“One reason. Give me one damn good reason why I wouldn’t?” Dean demanded, shifting his hand so his grip was better on the pistol when something light seemed to brush against the hand closest to the bed but he was too preoccupied to notice or pay attention until he noticed the way Tessa’s eyes had turned and again he felt something trying to touch his fingers.

“Is that reason enough?” Tessa asked with a gentle, almost reassuring smile toward the bed.

Suspicious of anything by this point, Dean was leery of looking away until this time something else caught his attention and his attention was instantly drawn to the bed and by the weak, whisper soft voice trying to get his attention.

“Sam?” at first he thought it was a trick of either his exhaustion or the Reaper until he realized what he’d felt trying to touch his fingers had been his brother’s weak attempts to grab his hand. Then he felt himself dropping to his knees next to the bed to grip those same weak fingers in his own and held on. “Sammy?”

Relief and confusion striking him, it took Dean several seconds to realize that a lot of his brother’s more serious wounds seemed to either be diminished or healed completely. “Did you…I thought you were…”

“The boss just said to remind you about the natural order of things,” Tessa replied, seeing that Dean remembered those words well. “He said if Sam died you’d more than likely do something stupid and mess it up more plus it wasn’t Sam’s time. He also said to remind you of what he said about the souls being important and to watch your back,” she once again looked down before stepping back. “He’s not all the way back. Talk to him, Dean. He needs to hear you.”

“Sammy?” moving so he could sit on the edge of the bed, Dean kept a firm grip on Sam’s hand while he placed his other flat on his brother’s chest like he would when needing to assure Sam that he was safe and felt the rapid heartbeat as he struggled to wake up fully and understand where he was to what he remembered. “Hey, little brother, take it easy. You’re safe and I’m right here.”

Sam’s memories were a little unclear at the moment at his body tried to readjust to still being alive. He could still feel pain but knew he wasn’t in as much as he should’ve been.

He remembered the attack; he remembered the abuse he’d suffered at that cabin and he especially remembered feeling the blows that he’d known instantly had ruined his knee and leg.

Sam knew he’d seen Tessa and he knew what she was probably supposed to be there to do. He’d been in between choosing against the pain and being a burden on those he cared for or coming back if only to keep his brother from self-destructing.

He hadn’t wanted to pain or memories. He hadn’t wanted to be a burden if his mental injuries left him too badly hurt that he couldn’t even think. Yet it was the thought of abandoning his brother that had made him choose to come back, to face possibly having his leg amputated and being seriously mentally impaired rather than allow Dean to be alone or let his brother drift too far down that dark path again.

“… …” trying to speak, Sam nearly choked and that brought on the panic he’d been fighting since realizing he could hear Dean and that he could move his fingers enough to try to reach his brother.

“Hey, Sam, calm down and listen to me,” Dean urged, careful to keep his tone firm to get through to Sam but managed to also keep it from being too sharp as he fell back to a quieter tone he only used when his brother had been younger and hurt. “You are nothing but tubes, wires, and stuff. Let me get a doctor or…Sammy…”

Weak fingers struggled to grip Dean’s other hand as it still laid on Sam’s chest while the hand that was still being held managed to hold on tighter as if not wanting his brother to leave and slowly Dean understood.

Neither Winchester cared for hospitals much but out of the two of them Sam especially hated them and Dean knew why.

 

Sam had been five years old when he’d come down with a cold that over time had spread into his lungs and by the time John returned from the hunt he’d been on he’d found his oldest son in a near panic because he hadn’t been able to stop his little brother from throwing up and he was burning with a fever that was high enough that John knew the younger boy needed medical help.

“Look at me,” he ordered, carefully reaching up to touch the side of Sam’s face to urge eye contact. “Sammy, look at me.” Dean waited until eyes that were still too big moved to lock onto his own and prayed that Sam would understand him since he still wasn’t certain what the hell Tessa had done or how much Sam had been healed. “I know you’re scared and confused but you’re safe and I’m right here with you.”

Guessing the oxygen mask was causing a lot of his brother’s anxiety right then, Dean hesitated before offering up a muttered curse then moved to take it off and didn’t miss the flash of relief in those big hazel eyes or the way Sam relaxed more once the mask was gone.

“You are so explaining to Bobby why I’m not screaming for a nurse,” he told Sam with what he honestly hoped was a steady voice because the moment the mask was gone he heard the two words his brother was able to get out past split lips and a dry mouth.

Hesitating a second to be sure he’d gotten the two words right it took Dean another couple seconds to be able to try to speak without letting his voice break. “Yeah. Yeah, Sammy, I’m good,” he assured him, adding with a smile that he would only use with his brother. “We’re both good and that’s how it’s gonna stay.”

“… stay?” Sam didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t quite trust that this was real yet even as he watched the hand gripping his tighten enough that he could feel it more. Then he noticed the black band on his wrist and remembered his near panic when it was taken and tossed. “…De’n?”

“Yeah, this is yours,” Dean assured him after seeing where Sam’s eyes were at but chose to wait until his brother was more awake to ask about the amulet. “And yeah, I’ll stay with you.”

Sam was clearly exhausted, his eyes kept trying to close but he struggled to stay awake as if he didn’t want to risk falling back to sleep only to find out this was nothing but a dream. He wanted to stay awake, to keep his eyes locked on his brother whom he noticed looked probably as tired as Sam felt.

“Here, try a sip of this,” Dean had poured a little ice water into a small cup that had been sitting next to the bed and after casually laying a testing hand on his brother’s stomach to see if it felt rigid or if Sam looked in pain decided some water would help.

Having to release the grip he’d kept on Sam’s hand since realizing his brother was still alive, the elder Winchester moved so he could lean closer in order to help Sam ease up enough to find the straw. “Sip it. You’re still pretty dehydrated so just sip it or else I’ll be having Sheriff Mills using ‘Mom’ tone on me again,” he declared, knowing the risks of letting his brother drink too much, too fast.

Setting the cup aside for later, Dean was about to move back only to have Sam’s still stiff fingers suddenly latch onto his shirt with a grip that was almost more like desperation than anything else.

Covering the grimace that he felt like since in his haste to latch on, Sam’s hand had brushed against the shoulder that had been shot, Dean looked up in question only to get the answer the moment he met Sam’s eyes and recognized the things that his little brother felt and wanted to ask but was still hesitant given their recent problems.

Ever since they’d been kids, Sam had been to wear his heart and emotions on his sleeve and Dean had always been able to read those emotions no matter if they were ones that Sam tried to keep hidden.

It had only been more recently that Sam had learned to hide his emotions better and had kept them from showing in his eyes as much as they once had. Except since getting his soul back had returned Sam’s emotions state back to an earlier time, a time when his deeper wants or emotions would show in the big hazel eyes.

When Sam had been younger and he’d either be hurt, sick, or scared he’d want to find comfort or reassurance and usually he’d look to his older brother for those things.

Sam hadn’t reached out willingly for that kind of reassurance in a long time. The closest he’d come was the morning he’d finally woken up ten days after having his soul returned.

“C’mere, Sam,” Dean knew his voice sounded gruffer than he wanted but the emotions he was struggling to bury until he had time alone to process all of this made it difficult to keep it level as he reached out and let out a shaky breath the moment he felt his brother grab on and hold on as tightly as his weakened arms would allow right then. “It’s okay, little brother. It’s all alright now and I promise that this will never happen again.”

Exhausted and still in pain, Sam heard the change in Dean’s voice and knew his brother was fighting to cover emotions that he’d never allow him to see or hear but right then all Sam knew was that this was real. He was still alive and as he returned the full, rarely given hug he wasn’t going to question the how or why yet when he just wanted to believe what his brother was saying.

Distracted by keeping Sam calm, Dean failed to notice the wire pulled out of Sam’s IV until the door opened to allow a perky nurse to peek in.

One look had the nurse checking again to be certain she was seeing things correctly then she let out a shout for the attending physician and Dean knew it would be some time before he and Sam would be able to talk fully.

“You’re doctor’s names McFadden, the head nurse will remind you of Bobby in drag and Bobby, Rufus, and Sheriff Mills are here. She will more than likely use ‘Mom’ tone the first chance she gets on you and I am not leaving you alone, Sammy,” Dean informed his now tensing sibling as he eased back but kept a firm, almost protective hand on Sam’s shoulder while turning to face the door as several alarmed and confused people came barging in. “Rethink the suggestion that I leave him because I will shoot the first person who says it.”

** Two Hours Later: **

“Stop growling,” Bobby ordered from his seat down the hall. “You are so damn lucky she hasn’t either shot you or arrested you by now.”

“I can’t arrest him until we’re back in Sioux Falls,” Jodi Mills piped up from where she sat reading a magazine, lifting her eyes up to peek at the highly peeved hunter prowling the hall. “I suppose I could shoot him.”

“I promised him I wouldn’t leave him!” Dean was pissed and it showed in the way his teeth clenched as he paced the hall in front of the closed door. “He just woke up. He’s scared and he won’t know how to answer them if they start asking too many questions about how he’s healed as much as he is.”

Rufus handed Bobby a cup of coffee from the vending machine without bothering to mention that he’d doctored it up. “How exactly do you plan on explaining that?” he asked curiously, still a little iffy on that whole story himself. “Kinda hard to tell ‘em the truth unless you want locked in a padded room.”

“I’ve been lying to doctors since before I was ten. I can handle this,” Dean had his doubts since explaining that an Angel of Death had healed his brother rather than claim him was pushing even his best skills. “If that doesn’t work, there’s Plan B.”

“Caleb shoulda been shot for ever teaching you that plan,” Bobby groused, explaining to Rufus and Jodi what Dean’s next plan would be. “Either sign Sam out AMA or…sneak him out.”

As Jodi was winding up for a lecture against that plan, Dean tuned them out. His concentration was on the room and his brother.

He’d known that McFadden would have to see how much Sam had healed or what hadn’t healed but he’d planned to stay with his brother while that was being done.

Sam hated doctors, he hated hospitals and he hated strangers, especially if those strangers had to touch him. Dean had seen the fear in Sam the moment he’d been bullied out of the room and only Dean’s promise to be right outside the door had kept his little brother from going into a full blown panic attack.

Now, two hours later Dean’s anxiety over it taking so long was making him even edgier when he heard the door open and he pounced on McFadden the moment the man stepped into the hall.

“How is he?” he demanded, continuing without waiting a beat. “How’s his leg? His head? Can I go back in?”

“I’m not certain how to write this in my reports but…he’s…alive,” McFadden began, clearly confused but deciding it best if he didn’t ask too many questions. “According to all the X-rays, the CT scans, the MRIs, your brother’s more serious wounds are healed.

“His leg and knee show signs of some minor breaking but certainly nothing like the damage that he had before. He’ll need to stay off of it as much as possible for at least a weak then begin some light PT to regain the strength but it’s healed,” he shook his head wryly. “You and Sam must have someone upstairs who like you that this miracle happened.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, maybe,” he murmured, knowing that once upon a time he could’ve said that but knew that his brother’s life was spared not from above but from someplace else. “The head trauma and internal bleeding?” he hadn’t given much thought to Sam’s mental state since he knew the kid always was slow to be coherent after being injured seriously.

Now he was concerned if Tessa had healed all of Sam or if she’d left the more fragile part of him to stay hurt on top of a wall in his mind that could shatter at a moments notice.

“He’s was quiet while we did the tests but he knew his name, his date of birth, your name, etc,” McFadden replied, seeming pleased with this result and surprised by the grim look on Dean’s face. “The tests all came back as fine so I think it’s safe to say that his mind is as good as it was…which I’m sure you’ll be able to tell better.”

“So, can I see him?” Dean figured Bobby could handle any questions but right then he just wanted to check on Sam, to be with him and to judge for himself if this doctor knew what the hell he was saying.

Wanting to suggest that the young man go get some rest, some food and have his own wound rechecked, McFadden noticed the way Dean’s facial muscles were tensing and decided against making that suggestion. “Yes, you can go in and see him,” he replied, calling out at the last second. “Mr. Winchester? Dean, I meant what I said. You are a lucky man and Sam’s lucky to have you for a brother.”

“You’re half right, Doc,” Dean returned with his hand on the knob. “I’m lucky alright. I’m lucky to have Sam for a brother. As for the rest of that…I’m not so sure. Excuse me.”

Bobby sighed at overhearing that comment and once again hated how those boys were raised that Dean, who had given so much for his brother and for their father, would think so little of himself. “Damn idjit,” he muttered, hearing a phone ring and realizing that it was his and scowling at the number. “Now what?”

Stepping into the now nearly empty hospital room, Dean took a moment to lean against the door to try to focus past all the emotions that had been building the past several days and what the next few would bring.

“Dean?”

The voice sounded tired and raspy but right then it also made Dean jump since he hadn’t expected his brother to be awake and he’d been hoping for at least five minutes to figure out what he was going to say to him.

“Dean, you…okay?”

Sam had tried to sleep but between doctors asking questions he wasn’t about to answer, to having tests run to see if he was still hurt as badly as he had been, to still being a little leery of falling asleep fully he’d been laying in the bed carefully testing for himself where he still had pain and if his leg would move.

He’d seen his brother come in and instantly caught how pale Dean seemed and the minute he seen him just lean against the door with his head bowed, Sam knew something was wrong.

When he failed to get a reply a second time, he considered trying to see just how bad his leg was still hurt by standing on it but the second he moved and the bed made a sound Sam knew without looking that he had intense green eyes pinning him.

“Try it and I can promise you will either faceplant or I’ll have a very testy lady Sheriff jumping down my throat for the fifteenth time since all this started,” Dean warned, pushing off the door to approach the bed while making a shooing motion. “You trying to get me killed or give me more stress, Sam?”

“You didn’t answer me so I wasn’t sure if you heard me or if something was wrong,” Sam replied, deciding he was still too tired and sore to sulk about being shooed like a child. “Is…something wrong?” he wasn’t certain how to take his brother at times these days and right now Dean looked worried which cause some concern in Sam.

Hearing the change of voice and taking a guess what his brother was thinking, Dean waved a hand while reaching to pull the chair back then decided to just sit on the bottom on the hospital bed to take a good look at Sam.

Knowing and accepting that even reapers had their limits, Dean wasn’t expecting Sam to look a hundred percent so the bruises still on his face and arms didn’t concern him. The hospital t-shirt and loose pants allowed him to check for the outline of bandages and since Dean knew were most of the welts and burns had been, he only saw a few bandages left which reminded him to check for himself how bad those still were.

There were three wounds that concerned Dean the most: Sam’s head, the deepest brand that had been infected the most and his leg and knee.

Fingers snapped in front of his face reminded Dean that he’d been staring for the past couple minutes and hadn’t heard a single word that Sam had been saying. “Come again?”

“I know I still have a slight concussion, but did you get hit in the head too hard or is something still really wrong with me that you’re acting this weird?” Sam demanded, surprised when the wrist he’d been lowering was grabbed. “Dean?”

Pushing up the sleeve of the hospital shirt, Dean looked for the signs of welts or burns that he’d seen on his brother before and was relieved to see that most of those had been healed or were barely visible. “What about the rest?” he asked upon feeling Sam tense.

“Most of the stuff’s gone,” Sam clearly didn’t want to discuss this and it was plain when he nearly mumbled the reply then sighed when he felt the grip on his wrist tighten in a way that he knew meant his brother wouldn’t let go until he answered him.

“X-rays showed two broken ribs and a cracked one,” he began quietly, moving the blanket aside so he could lift the shirt up far enough to allow his brother to see the few welts that had been left but knew the moment Dean’s jaw clenched that he’d seen the branded scar that had been left on his side. “Dean…”

“That she left?” Dean scowled, wondering why of all the other wounds Tessa had healed that she’d left that damn brand even if it had healed so it wasn’t as deep.

“Considering I could be a vegetable with one missing leg I think Tessa did good,” Sam winced as a wound on his back stung as he tried to get more comfortable.

Knowing that and accepting that were two different things in Dean’s book but he’d deal with those wounds. Right then it was the other two things his brother mentioned that he wanted to test. “What was your LSAT score?” he asked out of the blue, then held his breath at the blank look he received.

“You serious?” Sam wasn’t sure where that question had come from or why until he noticed the way Dean’s hand was clenching and unclenching, a sure sign that his older brother was nervous and hiding it. “Do you even know my LSAT score?”

“Cute, nice way to trick me into giving you the answer, now give it,” Dean shot back, putting in sourly. “Besides, I could tell you to recite the first half of the exorcism spell…in Latin.”

A tired bitch face was given before Sam finally rattled off both his last LSAT score of 174 and the full rites of exorcism in Latin then offered a smirk much like the one his brother was fond of using. “Happy now?”

“Show off,” Dean muttered, careful to hid his smile behind his hand since only his little brother could rattle off the full exorcism spell in Latin in less than two minutes then give him lip. “Now move your leg and I’ll be happy.”

“Didn’t you talk to a doctor?” Sam groused, going to move as if to stand up then thought twice at the sharp ‘don’t even think it look’ that was aimed his way and he decided to settle on just moving his leg up in the bed so his suddenly manic brother could see it move.

The slight pain was still evident when Sam gritted his teeth but both Winchesters knew that some pain was inevitable considering that it had been a ruined mess before Tessa healed it.

“The doctor said it’ll be weak and I’ll have to be careful on it for awhile but it’ll be fine,” Sam told him, easing it back down and wondering how long he could cover the pain when two pills from the nightstand were pushed into his hand along with the glass of water.

“Actually, the Doc said you had to stay off of it for at least a week then some light PT,” Dean remarked with a knowing big brother smirk, nodding to the water. “Take the pills, Sam or I will hold your nose closed until you do.”

“Jerk,” Sam muttered but swallowed the pills, noticing the way Dean had tensed at the use of the once so common teasing insult between them. “Want to talk about it now?”

Sitting the glass aside, Dean was wondering when to bring up the amulet when he looked over at the question. “Talk about what?” he deadpanned, hoping he could stay off this topic until he’d had at least an hour of sleep.

“You’re on edge and pissed off so do you want to talk about me being stupid enough to get jumped in Bobby’s own house by a pair of morons now or wait until you’ve brooded more?” Sam asked curiously, letting his eyes drop to the blanket where his fingers were absently playing with the black bracelet much like he would as a kid and nervous.

Dean felt like groaning but didn’t. He supposed he should’ve known his big brained little brother would take his tenseness and gruffer than normal voice as being angry with him over crap no one could’ve seen but reminded himself that he’d certainly given Sam enough cause to think so little of himself these past few years.

“Sammy,” he used the slightly exasperated voice he used when not wanting to talk but caught the way Sam was shifting and knew he was stuck either facing this now or letting Sam believe something so wrong. “Yeah, I’m on edge and I am pissed.”

That admission made Sam begin to bite his lip, another nervous habit he’d had a kid that he’d began using more recently and because Dean knew his brother he decided to put a stop to the next few reactions by reaching up to place a hand on the back of Sam’s neck to squeeze it lightly like used to when needing to offer support to his brother without speaking it.

Still on edge after all that he’d been through Sam automatically jumped at the touch to his neck then his eyes shot to Dean’s and he was surprised not to see the more expected anger or disappointment. Instead his brother’s green eyes were calm, understanding and showing more unexpressed emotion than Sam had seen in years.

“I’m on edge because I was shot. I have a cracked rib and haven’t really slept more than an hour in more than five days,” Dean began in a more subdued voice, easing up closer so he didn’t have to stretch to keep his hand on Sam’s neck; which he knew he needed to do right then as he went on. “I’m pissed because (A) I was out chasing vampires with Rufus when those dimwits attacked, (B) I didn’t get to that damn cabin soon enough, (C) I should’ve went in guns blazing before the bastard could hurt you that bad and (D) I was too caught up in my own hate to get you the help you needed.

“That translates into I’m pissed at everyone _but_ you, little brother,” he let his fingers tighten just enough to tell Sam he was serious but not hurt him since Dean was careful of any leftover welts or bruises his brother might have. “This wasn’t your fault, Sam. You couldn’t have known Walt would attack or how far off the rails he’d gone. I should’ve and I should’ve been there for you, with you and I sure as hell should’ve stopped the bastard before he used that damn bat on your knee.”

Blinking as he tried to make sense of what his brother was saying, Sam suddenly remembered the one reason he’d fought to come back and not pass over. He’d known Dean’s guilt would eat at him and now he knew he’d guessed right.

“You were out with Rufus because it was what we do and no, I knew I probably wasn’t ready to face vampires yet. You got to me a helluva lot faster than they were expecting you to. If you would’ve come in guns blazing you and I both know what that outcome would’ve been and Dean, I was already hurt too bad inside before you got there,” Sam told him, knowing the last comment wouldn’t go over well even before he saw Dean’s eye twitch like it did sometimes.

“I’ll ignore the last one for right now,” Dean decided but he understood what Sam was trying to say. “You know I would’ve been there sooner if I could’ve, right?” he asked, moving his hand from Sam’s neck down to his shoulder.

Thinking he knew what Dean was probably considering, Sam slowly nodded then reached up to grasp the hand on his shoulder. “I know that, Dean,” he replied, hesitating a beat before lifting his eyes to meet and hold his brother’s. “I have never doubted that you’d always come if I was in trouble. You’re my big brother and that’s why I still look up to you…well, figuratively at least.”

The last little remark didn’t go unnoticed by Dean as he shifted his grip on Sam’s shoulder so he could turn his hand over in order to grip Sam’s wrist while with his other hand he gave a light tap to the back of his brother’s head. “Bitch,” he smirked, feeling himself relax a little. “Way to kill the chick flick moment I was willing to give you, Sammy.”

Noticing that Sam still was a little too on edge warned Dean that there were probably more things about Sam’s time with Walt and Roy that he wouldn’t like once he weaseled it out of his brother, he chose to wait on that in favor of bringing up the one other little thing that had been bugging him.

“Hey, Sam? Were you planning on telling me you had this anytime soon?” he asked casually.

Looking toward Dean, Sam’s eyes immediately caught sight of the small gold amulet dangling from his brother’s hand and felt his breath catch.

Sam had picked the amulet up out of the trashcan where it had been dropped after that mess in Heaven had happened and Dean had finally been pushed to the limit.

He’d known that the Angels were trying to drive them apart and finally what Dean had seen up there that were supposed to have been Sam’s best memories, ones without his family, had caused his older brother to lose what faith he still had in him.

The sound of the amulet dropping into the trashcan was still one Sam could hear if he concentrated hard enough. He had known that whole time that he and Dean were getting more strained but it wasn’t until his brother willingly dropped the amulet that Sam understood just how bad it was since Dean had never once taken the tiny little gold amulet off since the Christmas it had been given to him.

Only when Castiel had asked for it in his search for God did Dean take it off, since Sam didn’t count the time his brother was in Hell, and then Sam knew it had hurt his brother to let the Angel borrow the amulet.

Sam had retrieved it, keeping it in his duffel bag in the hopes that one day he’d either feel safe enough to return the amulet to his brother or that Dean would find it when he went through Sam’s duffel if the plan to stop the Apocalypse fell through.

Even while soulless, Sam didn’t stop considering the amulet once he learned that in that time apart that his brother had never cleaned out the duffel and found it. He knew he’d considered giving it back during that time but something stopped him, an inner feeling that warned that returning it then wouldn’t have been what Dean would’ve wanted since Sam knew he wouldn’t have had the emotions to give back.

Now as he watched the amulet dangle on its black cord from Dean’s hand, he wasn’t certain what to say or do since he wasn’t sure how Dean would react now that he knew that Sam had picked it up and held onto it.

“I…wasn’t sure if you’d want it back yet considering what I did,” Sam finally replied, biting his lip again and feeling his heart sink a little as his brother let go of his wrist in order to step a little away from the bed; which was always a bad sign in Sam’s mind. “Didn’t think so,” he whispered, looking to where Dean was standing. “Just don’t toss it away again, please. I know we still have issues and I know I have a lot to fix but please, Dean, I need to still believe that one day we can be brothers again or…”

Dean had stepped away from the bed to try to get a better handle on the emotions he knew if he let out would embarrass them both. Now as he heard what Sam was saying and heard the soft break in his brother’s already soft voice he turned back to stare.

“Exactly how much drugs do they have you pumped up with?” he asked, rolling his eyes only to realize that Sam wasn’t reacting due to drugs. He really did think that things were still so messed up between them that Dean wouldn’t want the amulet back. “Sammy,” he sighed, looking at the amulet in his hand and knowing he had Sam’s full attention as he moved to put it back on and felt the familiar weight of it fall against his chest, a weight that he hadn’t realized he’d missed until he felt it again.

“I went back for this the night after but the manager of the motel said that nothing like it had been found,” he began lowly, sitting back on the edge of the bed and knew Sam’s eyes were glued to the amulet even as his fingers traced absent sigals onto the blanket. “Sammy, I need you to listen to me or try to since we both know your brain is probably fuzzed.

“I came to the conclusion late that most of not all of what went on in Heaven had been Zach’s way of pushing us farther apart and that what we each saw was meant to hurt the other but I didn’t get that until I was a jackass and had tossed this away,”

Dean let his finger touch the amulet that was back where it belonged before reaching over to make Sam meet his eyes, recognizing and hating the still wary fear he could see in his little brother’s hazel eyes that were one step from full on puppy power.

“This has always meant something to me, Sam. Even when we fought when you were a snotty teenager looking to get more space, I kept it on. I kept it on during that whole crapshoot with Ruby and probably if I hadn’t been so damn tired of us fighting, the crap with angels and demons on top of being shot by Walt I would’ve thought it through and not tossed it away because I regretted it as soon as I did it but…I didn’t do anything to fix it because in one way I thought maybe if I hurt you it would make something better, but it just made it worse,” he went on.

Moving the hand that had lifted Sam’s chin up back to his neck, Dean used his other to catch the hand he’d known would be reaching for his and held it. “Tossing this was my mistake, not yours and nothing that you could do would make me not want it back so get that out of your head,” seeing the start of the bitch face his brother was prone to use, he quickly shook his head.

“I’ve told you before and I will tell you one last time. Whatever you did in the year you were hunting solo, is not an issue between us. That time is gone, over, buried,” of that Dean was quite certain and would do whatever it took to see that it stayed that way.

Sam, on the other hand, didn’t see it as cut and dried as that. “Can you still say that considering I let you get turned into a vampire and kidnapped by faeries?” he asked, forcing his still weak fingers to grip tighter onto his brother when he felt Dean tense. “You can say it’s over, Dean, but I know you and the fact that you won’t talk to me about the time with the faeries…”

“I told you to drop that topic,” Dean warned, reminding himself that Sam was in hyper mode to make up for the things he’d done while soulless but while the vampire incident was one thing, the time he’d been kidnapped by faeries while his soulless little brother was having a fling with some hippie chick was one event that he would not discuss with Sam.

“You weren’t yourself on either of those times so like anything else you did, it’s done and over. You’re you again. You’re my annoying little brother and that’s the way it is,” he remarked firmly, giving Sam’s neck a careful squeeze to be sure he understood. “I will always have your back and like it’s always been, anyone who touches you will have their lungs ripped out. Now, are we good?” Dean asked with a tone of fake exasperation. “You need to sleep and I really want to close my eyes for five seconds without worrying about someone else popping in to…oh crap.”

Dean could tell that his wish for sleep was going to be put off the second he read the look on Bobby Singer’s face when the older man stepped into the room.

Feeling Sam tense, Dean’s grip on his brother’s neck stayed while he moved his other hand to give it a careless toss. “What bad news do you have for me?” he asked warily, knowing that Bobby only had that look when he needed to deliver news that would set Dean off in one way or another.

“Tom just called,” Bobby began seriously, looking between the brothers and seeing that Dean had slipped into full on over protective big brother mode once again while Sam seemed to be fighting off the sleep that wanted to come. “They found Roy.”

 

 

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

** Local Jail, Cass Lake, Minnesota: **

“Dean, I don’t wanna be bailing you out so at least don’t do anything stupid while in public!” Bobby shouted even though he knew it was useless.

He’d known what Dean Winchester’s reaction to learning that the local park rangers had found Roy alive and he hadn’t been disappointed.

After having a small war between the brothers when Sam decided he wanted to be with his brother when he confronted Roy and Dean outright and very firmly refused, Dean had only agreed to leave Sam if Rufus stayed at the hospital to ‘shoot any son of a bitch who looks at Sammy wrong’.

Bobby Singer and Sheriff Jodi Mills had followed the Impala from the hospital back to Cass Lake and both were praying Dean kept his temper and didn’t shoot the main right there in the small police station.

As it turned out, Bobby’s concerns about Dean killing Roy outright were the least of what he needed to be worried about or so he learned.

“Balls! This week can’t get any worse,” he griped, reaching under the seat of his truck for a shotgun and seeing the wide eyed look the Sioux Falls Sheriff gave him. “What? You never know when this comes in handy…like now.”

Jodi Mills had been getting out to either head Dean off or try to convince the local cops not to arrest the angry young man when she took notice of the small group of people that had instantly drawn Dean’s attention and clearly his fury. “Bobby, who is that?”

“Never met the son of a bitch in person but if I had to guess…I’d say that bald fella would be the boys’ grandpa and that’s all sorts of bad news,” Bobby replied grimly, deciding to stay back to see what would happen when something else caught his eye just as his phone took off ringing again. “Watch that idjit.”

“You think?” she scoffed, making certain her badge was visible for both the local authorities and anyone else and also feeling to be certain her own service revolver was within reach. “Dean…”

Figuring he could crash for a week once he had Sam safe, Dean’s anger and emotions were pushing the surface as his exhaustion got more intense.

He’d hoped Roy would have either died of a wound or maybe had gotten ate by something up in the forest but knowing the weasel was alive brought back all the images of that tiny cabin, of seeing the smaller man using the white hot branding iron on Sam then holding him still while his knee was shattered.

While Dean’s hate for Roy might not have been as intense once, after this mess he’d changed his mind and knew that while Roy’s death might be a lot faster there was no question in his mind that the little bastard would at least have an idea of some of Sam’s pain and know why he was dying.

Not considering how he’d do that if the cops had him in custody, Dean’s plan had been to let Jodi do some talking to get Roy released then he’d handle it. That had been his plan…until he stepped around the Impala and ran face to face with someone he hated nearly as much as he had Walt.

“You no-good son of a bitch,” he gritted, not caring if he was out in public or if the men with Samuel Campbell outnumbered him four to one, he’d sworn to kill his mother’s father the next time he laid eyes on the man and now seemed like a good time to him.

“Hello, Dean,” Samuel greeted his oldest grandson as if he hadn’t set him and Sam up for Crowley just a few months before. “I take it you’re here to see Roy?”

The smaller hunter looked worn out and injured as he tried to hide behind one of the men Samuel had brought with him since Roy clearly knew his fate if Dean got him within reach.

“I was but now I figure I can kill two bastards with one stone,” Dean returned coldly, noticing that none of the local cops were sticking their heads out. “Pay ‘em off?”

“Let’s just say their boss and I came to an understanding,” Samuel replied, seeing the hate in his grandson’s eyes but also recognizing the weariness and how Dean was favoring his one shoulder. “How’s Sam?” he asked curiously, offering a smile. “I heard he didn’t fare too well from his visit with Walt. Shame about that since the boy was a good…Dean.”

The Colt pulled, cocked, and aimed all in a flash as rage colored Dean’s vision and it took all the willpower he had not to shoot right then. “Do not let my brother’s name come out of your mouth again or I will shoot you down right now and have it done,” he snarled in a tone that even had Samuel frowning.

Samuel blamed John Winchester for Mary’s ultimate fate and by hating John he also hated the two sons that had come from his daughter’s marriage to the man. Though he had another reason for hating Dean and that was for bringing that damn yellow eyed demon to his family that night back in the past and that one act changed it all.

He’d admitted that Sam was useful as a hunter while he’d been without a soul but even Samuel had been having some issues controlling the boy. Now he wondered with Sam having his soul back, if he remembered everything from his time while hunting with his group. He doubted it or the boy’s brother would’ve already been shooting.

“You hate me, fine. You hate my Dad even, fine…but you stay the hell away from my little brother, asshole,” Dean growled, nothing but hate in his deeper than usual voice as his eyes moved between the hunters with Samuel to his grandfather to finally land on Roy before going back to the patriarch of the Campbell family.

“You used Sam as your own personal assassin because you knew he didn’t have the moral aptitude right then to know what he was doing was wrong and when he probably did, I’m guessing you had ways to deal with that,” sharp green eyes were livid when he gave the older man a smirk. “You seriously don’t think that I know that you and your cronies screwed with my brother? I’ve known that kid since he was born and there isn’t a single tell sign that he has, either with or without a soul, that I don’t know so here’s another warning for you…”

Seeing that Bobby was yelling into his phone while banging his head onto the truck hood, Dean took notice that Jodi was close enough to act if she thought she had reason so he stayed out of her range as he took a step closer that put him well within Samuel’s personal space.

“The second that Sam finally breaks down and talks to me about what he does remember from his time with you and the Soup kids, the first damn minute that he confirms what I think happened is when all bets are off and I blast the whole damn lot of you to Hell,” he swore, wishing he could wipe that cold grin off of Samuel’s face right then.

“That might be hard if you find yourself dead right now, Dean,” Samuel told him, seeing one of his men move out of the corner of his eye. “Then who’d protect your precious brother?”

A quick hand grabbed Dean by the back of his jeans as Jodi put herself between the two men while aiming her service weapon at the hunter who had slipped a knife free.

“I’d tell your friend to sheath the blade and stop making threats if I were you, Mister,” she declared, slipping into her cop tone while stepping down hard on Dean’s foot to make him stay still while eyeing Samuel coolly. “Now this may not be my jurisdiction which means I’d have to go through the cops inside to make a case against you but that little weasel cowering in the back is a different story.

“He was in on a breaking and entering case that also involved assault, assault with intent, assault with a deadly weapon, kidnapping, and a few other charges I can toss in,” she didn’t flinch from Samuel’s glare. “I suggest you take your other pals and go back to where you came from but he’s going nowhere except back to Sioux Falls.”

Samuel looked between the Sheriff and Dean then over to Bobby who had finally tossed his phone to casually lay his shotgun on the hood of his truck. “Roy’s coming with us,” he replied firmly, knowing the man wasn’t of much use but well aware that he’d always be a thorn in Dean’s side if he was alive.

Dean was about to physically move Jodi to one side when a commotion in back of Samuel happened and the next thing he knew was that Roy was falling to the ground with a terrified scream.

“Sorry, that just wasn’t in the agenda today.”

Samuel whirled to see that not only had Roy dropped but so had two of his men as he glared at the petite looking black haired woman. “What happened?” he demanded, kneeling down but already knowing they were dead.

“She…she just appeared, touched them and they…fell down,” another man stuttered to Samuel.

“What game is this?” Samuel demanded, reaching to grab for Tessa’s arm only to find himself pushed back then he was whirling to glare at his smirking grandson. “What the hell is this?”

Dean had eased Jodi to one side while watching Tessa who seemed amused by Samuel and his men. “Good question,” he agreed, lifting an eyebrow. “You know I wanted to kill the little asshole. Making up for not taking Sam?”

“No, he was on the list,” Tessa assured him, giving Samuel a hard look as his hand closed on her arm. “Take it off or it’ll be the last thing you do.”

“What are you?” he demanded, figuring this was some other form of unholy help his grandson had cooked up. “I’ll kill you just as quickly as I plan to my grandson if you…ack…”

Samuel let go of Tessa to grab his throat as it was suddenly closed and as the Reaper merely offered a mild shrug, Dean knew it wasn’t Tessa that was causing this and was slow to turn while offering his grandfather a slow smile.

“Yeah, grabbing a Reaper, that’s one way to tick off her boss,” he decided, turning to see the tall, gaunt looking older man standing on the sidewalk in a black suit while carrying his usual walking stick. “Death tends to take it personally when you go touching one his.”

The older hunter had certainly heard rumors and legends about the legendary horseman and the Reapers that claimed souls that were ready or even those who weren’t ready but he hadn’t believed all of them. Now, he wasn’t certain as the new arrival moved a hand and his airway opened.

“Who…what…” he gasped, glaring at Dean. “This is your…”

“Hey, I only deal with him when I have to since he ain’t the biggest fans of me and Sam,” Dean replied, lifting both hands but keeping his eyes on Death and noticing his small smile. “You passing through for a reason?”

Death certainly was used to being addressed in a certain way and it both amused and frustrated him that Dean Winchester was one of the few, either mortal or Immortal, who didn’t address him that way.

“I actually thought it was time to introduce myself to your grandfather and to point out to you that it’s time you take your brother home,” Death’s tone was its usual calm, all knowing one that never failed to put the fear of God into Dean even though he hardly showed it.

As he was thinking up a reply to that, something in that last phrase caught his attention and Dean’s eyes went to slits. “Come again?” he asked, seeing the small smile on Death’s face even as he heard a familiar engine then heard Bobby growling. “I am so hiring a Sammy-sitter the next time I leave him alone,” he decided, shooting Samuel a look before turning to head his brother off.

Samuel sneered as he watched Dean’s body language change the closer he got to the truck that Sam was stepping out from. “Boy’ll get killed one day by only looking after his brother,” he spat, still vowing that he’d take care of both Winchesters before he died…again.

“That is true, Sam is Dean’s one true weakness,” Death agreed, letting his eyes also look at the now bickering siblings but only the Horseman noticed that when the elder Winchester reached to lightly cuff his brother on the side of the head it was without true anger and only the exasperated fondness an older brother could have.

Then Death returned his attention to Samuel and as he stepped closer there was no doubt of the power he exuded as he laid a very frail looking hand on his arm but squeezed with a strength that no mortal could have. “I know more about why you were brought back than even you do and as someone who values natural selection very dearly take my advice when it comes to your grandsons.

“You would be best to leave Dean and Sam alone because while they are certainly not my favorite mortals, and they have done more to upset the delicate balance of natural order and selection than anyone else in many eons they do have my respect and since they also come in handy, they will also have my protection,” Death squeezed again until the hunter nearly screamed from the pain in his arm. “Send your men after the Winchesters again and it will be a personal visit from me that you will receive.”

As Samuel stumbled back, he gave another hot gaze toward the brothers then stalked off with his remaining followers behind him.

“Deal with the bodies this time, Tessa,” Death decided it best to not let the mortals do anymore than focus on getting the Winchesters back to a safe place.

“You damn fool old man!” Bobby was mad and it showed as he yelled at Rufus. “I told you to watch him, not let him sign himself out AMA!”

Rufus Turner knew this was going to be the reaction when he and Sam showed up but knew he’d been out of options. “Kinda hard to keep the boy safe when a couple monkey butts showed up at the hospital dressed as interns and tried to take him out, Bobby,” he returned, guessing that would shut Bobby up but would probably set Dean off.

“Say what?” Dean had been complaining the entire walk from in front of the police station to the sidewalk and had been prepared to launch into one of his lectures when he heard those words and caught the fresh bruise on the side of Sam’s face and the bandage on his lower arm.

Anger, fear, and then buried relief burst through him as he got to Sam. Reaching up he laid both hands on his brother’s neck to carefully check his face and saw the fresh bruise on the side of his face as well as a gash above his head.

“You okay?” he asked tightly, swearing that he would rip someone heart and lungs out for this. “What happened?”

Sam was clearly tired and still weak since he wasn’t shrugging off his brother’s grip as he might normally. Giving a one shouldered shrug, he winced. “Guess they were Samuel’s men or something. We didn’t get to exchange names. They didn’t look or have the feel of interns and I took exception to being drugged or killed so…” he shrugged again but knew by the way his brother’s eyes had narrowed that Dean had filled in the blanks. “I’m okay, Dean.”

“Yeah, and I’m a little purple alien,” Dean muttered though he did seem finally satisfied that he stepped back but kept a hand on Sam’s arm in case the kid went down since he knew his brother was too weak to be up much less on his leg. “You sign out AMA, Sammy?”

“You were going to sign me out when you got back so what’s the difference?” Sam countered with a yawn when something caught his attention. “Is that Death? Why’s Death here? Dean…”

“He decided to pop in with his natural griping about natural selection and what a pain in the ass I am,” Dean wasn’t really sure why the Horseman had come but wasn’t going to knock it if that meant someone else could deal with Samuel for the moment, especially when he noticed the way his brother tensed at the sight of their so-called grandfather. “Samuel won’t hurt you, Sam. No one will. C’mon, lets go.”

Jodi had checked in with the local police, assured them that all was fine, lied through her teeth and was eager to get the Winchesters back to her jurisdiction. “Why would they want to drug Sam?” she asked after hearing part of that conversation. “Wouldn’t killing him be easier if that’s what they wanted?”

As Sam’s eyes shifted to the ground, Dean had a hunch he knew why drugging had come first but kept it to himself while lightly cuffing the side of Sam’s head. “You are so grounded when we get back to Bobby’s, geek boy,” he remarked lightly, reaching into his pocket for the keys to the Impala when the next thing Dean knew he was heading face first for the concrete sidewalk.

“Dean!” Sam had been watching his brother use his opposite hand to reached for the keys and then he seen the change just before Dean’s eyes rolled back and his legs buckled.

Still feeling the effects of being hurt on top of a lack of real food for days had Sam’s reaction time off from what it normally is but he managed to grab his brother before he could slam face first into the sidewalk. “Dean?” he called again, feeling a huge wave of panic coming on when he realized his brother wasn’t responding. “Dean!”

“He passed out, Sam,” Jodi had been the closest to the pair and knelt down to check for a pulse and found Dean’s beating strong. “He’s been hurt, hasn’t ate right, hasn’t slept in who knows how long and has been so worried about you that he just finally passed out.”

Sam had known his brother had been hurt and he’d assumed he probably wasn’t sleeping since he knew how Dean was when in hyper manic protective older brother mode but he hadn’t expected him to go down like this.

Normally Dean would fight the exhaustion until they were back someplace stable or someplace where he could sic Sam on Bobby then crash.

This time Sam wasn’t sure what to do since he doubted if he could drive the Impala back to South Dakota, he didn’t know how bad his brother was hurt or what to do to help him and he had doubts if he was ready to be on his own until Dean came to again.

The more Sam thought, the more doubts and fears were coming until he felt the beginning of a very rare panic attack nearing until he felt a strong hand gripping his and he realized that he’d gripped Dean’s without being aware of it.

“Hey,” Dean’s eyes were open but glassy from lack of sleep. It was the sound in Sam’s voice as well as the way his hand seemed to shake as it gripped Dean’s that had brought him back around. “Sammy, I’m good,” he promised, seeing doubts in pure puppy dog looking hazel eyes now. “Just got dizzy. I’ll sleep once we’re back at…”

“You ain’t driving, idjit,” Bobby interrupted as he and Rufus tried to get both Winchesters back to their feet. “You’d crack that car up within the first mile and then I’ll have to deal with you as you fix it again.”

Dean was manic over two things: his car and his brother. He’d killed to protect either and he never let anyone but Sam drive his car unless he had to.

Debating between arguing and sleeping, a look at Sam’s face made his mind up. With a low disgruntled growl he dropped the keys into Jodi’s hand. “Fine, she can drive.” “I can what?” Jodi blinked, not expecting that since she’d gotten clued in pretty quick how Dean loved that car but realized she’d been nominated when Dean was already trying to urge Sam toward the car and Bobby and Rufus were fighting on the way toward their respective trucks. “Great, I get to drive. That thing better be an automatic, Dean.”

“Don’t say it, Dean,” Sam warned upon seeing the glint in his brother’s eye. “She can shoot you.”

Figuring it wasn’t wise to tell his brother how many times Jodi Mills had threatened to do just that, Dean helped ease his still sore brother into the back seat then thought of something, opened the trunk to grab something out of it then got in beside Sam.

“Huh?” Sam blinked through sleepy eyes when he felt something laid over him and the familiar smell of gun oil and leather took his mind back to a simpler time. “Dean?”

“Go to sleep, Sammy,” Dean urged, smiling as he watched his brother absently pull his battered old leather jacket around him like he would as a kid. “I’ll be back here with you. Just go to sleep.”

Halfway there, Sam mumbled something only Dean heard as Jodi got in to start the car and he chuckled. “No, I don’t think she’ll play anything sappy on the radio. I’ll talk her into using the tape player in a minute.”

“Don’t think so, hotshot,” Jodi replied lightly, wondering how in the hell these boys drove this thing since it had been years since she’d even been in a car with a cassette player.

Looking back when she didn’t get a smart remark back, she smiled fondly while seeing that Sam had fallen to sleep again but it was the way he’d fallen almost naturally against his brother’s shoulder that tugged at her heart.

Dean, she also saw, seemed to have gone back to sleep since he was partially confident that his brother and his car were in good hands. As in knowing how his brother would move in his sleep, Dean had shifted to give Sam more room but had also moved his arm so that his hand was laying loosely on Sam’s neck in comfort and support but his arm was in position to hold if his brother woke up with a bad dream.

These were things only brothers who had grown up together would be able to do so effortlessly. These were things only an older brother would think to do for a younger brother he’d fight so hard to protect.

Eyeing both Winchesters and the size of the backseat, Jodi shook her head. “We’ll need a pry bar to get those two outta this thing and into the house,” she decided, putting the Impala and drive and heading back to South Dakota…to the closest thing to home she knew these boys had.

** Seventy Two Hours Later: Bobby Singers Salvage Yard: **

Pain in his shoulder and the feeling of sleeping too long made Dean Winchester want to drag something over his head and try to ignore the world for the next year.

Then he remembered why his shoulder was hurt which also shot memories of something more important into his barely awake brain: Sam.

The last thing Dean could recall was falling asleep in the back of the Impala. He’d decided to stay in the backseat to be close in case his brother had issues or needed him because Dean wasn’t stupid enough not to think that Sam would be having nightmares.

Not certain where he was or where his brother was nearly made Dean snap up and only the pain in his shoulder and the realization that he could feel something touching the top of his hand made him stay still.

It took another moment for him to understand what he was feeling and then he knew who was doing it even before he heard the whisper soft voice from beside him.

“Wake up. Please wake up, Dean. Just wake up. I’m sorry you were hurt…again and…”

Between the whisper quiet voice that was just showing signs of breaking to the sigils being signed absently on the back of his hand, Dean knew Sam had been awake and alone too long and had probably been brooding over his memories.

Dean remembered the times when Sam was younger that Dean had been hurt on a hunt and Sam would go into the stage of near panic if he didn’t wake up for a while.  Usually when Dean would wake up it would be to his scared little brother sitting beside him and tracing the sigils that Dean or their Dad had taught him onto his brother’s hand or arm.

Too tired to open his eyes yet, Dean merely turned his hand over to grip Sam’s and heard the quick intake of breath and waited another beat before opening his eyes.

“Dean?” Sam called almost hopefully, shifting in the chair he’d been sitting in too long and wincing at the pain in his knee. “Dean, you awake?”

“If I said no, would you go away and let me sleep another week?” Dean asked hopefully, swearing to himself when he felt Sam go to move. “Damn it. Sam, wait.”

Opening his eyes, Dean noticed he was in the room at Bobby’s that he and Sam always shared and then he noticed that while he was on his bed, Sam had been sitting in one of the tiny chairs that were in the room and his still injured leg had been bent too long.

“How long have I been sleeping, how long have you been awake and why isn’t that leg propped up?” he asked all in one breath which impressed Dean considering how tired he still felt.

Blinking at the questions, Sam didn’t seem to realize that Dean’s grip on his hand was keeping him from rising as he tried to answer. “Three days or so I think. I’ve been awake probably about a day and…I can’t prop it up and still sit here with you.”

The last was said with a bit of the attitude Sam only gave his older brother when he was tired or in pain. “Huh,” Dean muttered, not liking that he’d slept that long but guessed it was his own fault for not sleeping for so long. “Did you eat?” he asked, noticing an empty plate on the dresser but since he knew Sam and knew how he was when sick changed the question. “Did you eat that or did the plant in the corner eat it?”

Pure bitch face was aimed his way as Sam scowled then shrugged. “Bobby caught onto that so I ate it,” he sighed, again going to stand as Dean pushed himself to sit up only this time Sam felt his leg give. “Damn.”

“Sit down, Sammy,” Dean was quick to grab for his brother when he saw him start to fall. “Actually, lie down and prop this thing up like you were told to do,” he shifted so when he gave the next gentle nudge Sam found himself sitting on his own bed. “You let Bobby look at these?”

Clamping down on his lip to bury the groan that wanted to come as his leg was carefully extended so it could lay propped up on two more pillows Dean had grabbed from the floor. “Yeah, once,” he admitted, watching Dean through lowered lashes and knew his brother was gauging wounds he could see to ones he couldn’t and probably debating on what to ask. “You can look at ‘em.”

“No duh, genius,” Dean snorted but put that off until he was more awake and Sam was more at ease again. “This wasn’t your fault either, Sam. Getting hurt is just part of the process of being an awesome big brother and I’ve never held that against you.”

“I know,” Sam sighed, moving to sit up only to find himself pushed back down. “Not tired, Dean.”

“You’re cranky and you’ve shot me the bitch face twice in less than ten minutes so yeah, you are so still tired, little brother,” Dean smirked, though he did nudge Sam over a little so he could move to sit at the top of the bed with his back against the headboard. “You sleep and when you wake up we’ll see what Bobby has to eat around here.”

Wanting to argue that he wasn’t tired, the pain slowly ebbing away did seem to make him want to close his eyes. Fingers reaching absently for the battered leather jacket that had been brought in with them, he heard Dean chuckle before feeling the leather under his fingers.

“Bobby…has rabbit food,” Sam complained, half asleep by this point and trying to move closer to his brother while keeping his leg straight so it didn’t hurt. “Green stuff.”

“Uh-huh. Damn, you are sick,” Dean decided, knowing his health food loving brother only craved stuff that Dean liked when he was really sick or just getting over being sick. “I’ll handle it.”

“De’n?” Sam mumbled, now more asleep he opened one eye to look up at his brother. “Thanks for coming after me. It was…scary.”

Dean swallowed hard to clear the lump away as he slowly let his fingers card back through Sam’s longer than normal hair and guessed his brother wouldn’t recall saying that last part since even Dean couldn’t recall the time his brother willingly had admitted to being scared…except for five years earlier and those damn rednecks.

“That’s what big brothers do, Sammy,” he finally replied, waiting until he’d felt Sam’s body relax more and knew his brother was fully asleep to add to himself. “I’d always come for you, Sammy.”

** Two Weeks Later, Bobby Singers Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, SD: **

Since returning to Sioux Falls two weeks earlier, Jodi Mills had been busy with being Sheriff in town to stop out to Bobby’s place as much as she wanted.

The couple times she’d stopped or called right after she, Bobby and Rufus got the Winchesters back here, both boys were still out like lights and Bobby was grumbling about it being too quiet.

Today, after finishing up some paperwork and finding herself free, she picked up some quick take-out and decided to drop in to see how things were going.

Pulling up, she thought she could hear raised voices but shrugged that off to maybe Bobby had the TV up too loud until she noticed that the grumpy hunter was sitting on his front porch cleaning his shotgun and the raised voices seemed to be coming from inside.

“You don’t want to go in there yet,” Bobby told her without looking up, finishing cleaning the last barrel then proceeded to reload it with a few rounds of buckshot. “Trust me.”

“What the hell is that?” she wanted to know, wincing as something crashed and Bobby’s jaw clenched. “Bobby? What’s happening in there and where are the boys?”

Promising himself that he wouldn’t shoot the first moment he stepped into the house, he shook his head. “ _They’re_ what’s happening in there,” he responded sourly, jerking open his front door to a loud, bickering fight from toward the rear of the house. “I just remembered why I hated to have John drop those two off with me for long periods and especially if one or both of ‘em were hurt or sick.”

“They get bored too quick, they’ve eaten me out of nearly everything in the pantry, they’re getting testy with one another since Sam’s at the healing stage where he doesn’t want Dean hovering and Dean’s still at the stage where Sam can’t take a step without him griping about…then Sam went into the attic and all hell broke loose,” he groaned as something came flying out of what was his formal living room. “Hey! You two idjits break one thing I’m still tanning your hides!”

Jodi blinked at the tone Bobby was using then her eyes went wide as she stepped into the living room and found that it looked like a warzone created by a pair of bored and angry two year olds rather than two young men.

“Put it down!” Sam was snapping, trying to struggle out from under where his brother had him pinned on the floor and reach what Dean was holding out away from him. “Dean!”

“No way! I’m salting and burning this thing!” Dean shot back, offering the offending creature he was holding a snarl. “I should’ve done that in the first damn place and I wouldn’t have this problem now!”

“You hid it in the attic!” Sam accused, sounding much like a pouty child but not paying attention to that or to the two actual adults in the room. “Dad told me that some ugly twelve eyed monster stole it.”

Smirking at the lame excuse his poor father had been forced to come up with at the drop of a hat that day, Dean then rolled his eyes while adjusting his grip and weight so he could keep Sam pinned but not hurt him. “What else was he supposed to tell you that wouldn’t have sent you into a screaming fit?” he scoffed. “You were attached to this thing and since Dad wouldn’t let me burn it I hid it in Bobby’s attic.”

“Let me go and give it back!” debating on the wiseness of biting his brother, Sam was getting ready to resort to that if he couldn’t get his brother to back off when the next sound in the room had both brothers freezing.

“Sam! Dean! Stop that this very minute or I’m putting you both in time-out and trust me you won’t like my time-outs!” Jodi Mills snapped in her best and sternest ‘Mom’ tone of voice as she stepped into the room fully and gave a swift yank on the closest ear she could grab. “Get off of your brother, Dean!”

“Hey, watch it!” struggling to still keep a grip on Sam but defend his ear Dean finally gave in to the Sheriff and stood up but kept what he had in his hand out of reach. “Fine, but he’s going to come up swinging at me,” he warned.

Sam had planned that even though his still weak leg and knee kept him from moving as quickly as he normally could, he was up and moving only to have two hands push against his chest and a set of eyes pinned him very sternly.

“Don’t think about it, young man,” Jodi warned, whirling back to his brother to just shoot him a silent warning of the same while eyeing both. “What the hell is happening?” she demanded, ignoring the snickering Bobby was doing in the doorway. “The last time I seen you two Dean was threatening to rip lungs out if anyone hurt Sam, now you two are scraping like alley cats.

“He hid my…”

“He’s being a…”

Counting to ten, Jodi waited before reaching up to slap both brothers then held her hand out for what Dean was keeping from Sam. “Hand it over,” she ordered sternly, arching one fine brow at his glare.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, holding out the fuzzy scraggly looking furry stuffed toy that had once been a bright orange but had faded over time in the attic. “The damn thing is possessed.”

Staring at the toy that Jodi could recall from her own youth, she looked at Sam to see that while he’d dropped his chin as if embarrassed to have been caught fighting over an old toy she could also see the look in his eyes.

Sam’s deep hazel eyes when he used puppy power could break her down as quickly as they did his own brother. “It’s a Fraggle,” she spoke to him and saw his small headshake.

“I got it from Pastor Jim one year and then one day it was gone and Dad said a monster had eaten it,” Sam shot his brother a glare from behind lowered lashes. “He hid it.”

“Kid was scared of spiders and his own shadow at five but yet he clung to that furry little demon,” Dean muttered, shifting on his feet at the Sheriff’s firm glare then one look at Sam’s eyes had him swearing with a sigh. “It was a joke to start with. I planned to give it back to him when we came back to Bobby’s but then I forgot. I gave him his own bracelet to match mine to make him feel better for the monster eating Harry.”

Hearing the honest remorse in Dean’s voice made Jodi shoot Bobby a grin then she held out the battered Fraggle to Sam. “I think Dean’s sorry for hiding him and for making half this mess.”

Wary on taking the toy, Sam waited until Dean gave a reluctant nod to reach for the old toy then smiled fully, the kind of smile Dean had been waiting a week to see on him. “Thanks, Sheriff,” he offered Jodi a softer smile before looking toward his brother. “Okay?”

“I never should’ve taught you to use those damn eyes,” Dean knew that was his downfall but finally nodded. “Yeah, but the damn thing lives in the trunk and the first time it moves I’m burning it,” he warned gruffly, then groaned at the hug he half expected since Sam was still in pure emotion.

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam was about to step back when he felt the hand on his neck squeeze a little tighter as his brother held the hug a second longer than Sam knew Dean normally would which was his brother’s way of apologizing.

“Good, now that you’re friends again…you can clean this mess up while I get the food from the car,” Jodi decided, hearing low but good natured groans and then noticed Bobby’s sheepish look. “What?”

Figuring that cleaning up the living room was easier than the chore Bobby would have when he needed to explain the mess in the kitchen. “Good thing the Sheriff brought take out, right, Bobby?” Dean shot his friend a smirk, seeing Sam hiding his smile behind the toy.

“Shut up, idjit,” Bobby growled, scuffing the toe of his boot on the rug. “Had a small accident in the kitchen,” he explained, trying to head the Sheriff off but closed his eyes at her next few words. “You both are gonna die if you don’t shut up,” he warned the brothers.

“What was killed in there?” Jodi had to know, not sure she wanted to know but needing to while noticing that both Dean and Sam were fighting not to laugh.

As Bobby pulled the bill of his cap lower on his head with a mutter that he’d get the food, Dean started to laugh while Sam sat on the sofa to rest his still aching leg.

“Well?” she shot each a look then glanced back at the kitchen. “What was killed and please tell me I won’t be getting any calls from the FBI.

“Bobby thawed out a chicken,” Sam snickered as Dean lost the battle not to laugh as he tried to demonstrate what had hit the kitchen. “It…seems…to have been…possessed sometime cause…it tried to…eat him.”

“Boom!” Dean was laughing so hard he’d collapsed onto the floor to lean against the sofa. “He finally had to shoot it when Sam’s exorcism didn’t work. Guess the chicken didn’t understand Latin, huh, Sammy?”

Rolling her eyes, Jodi left the brothers laughing since it had been a long time she figured since they’d actually been able to laugh like that together.

“Singer, you so owe me,” she warned, stepping into the chicken slaughtered kitchen to begin to clean it and hope that for once both Sam and Dean could have a small chance to just be together without any hassles or pain but something told her it would never be that simple for them. “Dean! What’s on this ceiling?” she called out and heard the fresh wave of laughter start and Bobby shouting curses about possessed frozen food.

After cleaning the kitchen and making certain her takeout wasn’t going to end up killed, Jodi shooed Bobby out to do research and was reaching for her jacket when she noticed that Sam had fallen to sleep on the sofa in the newly cleaned living room.

“Gonna come back, Sheriff?” Dean asked quietly from over her shoulder.

“After today I shouldn’t but probably,” she admitted, watching as he laid the blanket he’d gotten from upstairs over his sleeping brother after making certain the orange Fraggle once laying where Sam could reach it. “You wouldn’t have burned that, would you?”

Easing down so he could sit on the floor in front of the sofa, Dean lifted his gaze with a smile that she rarely saw on him, a truly loving one that only a brother could have. “No, but he doesn’t need to know that. G’night, Sheriff.”

“Good night, Dean,” Jodi watched as he took on last look at Sam to be certain his brother was sleeping fully before going to work on cleaning his handgun.

Hearing the door close and knowing that Bobby had walked Sheriff Mills out, Dean paused to close his eyes. “G’night, Sammy,” he whispered, making the silent promise to keep his brother safe and kill the first Campbell who came after his brother again. “G’night.”

 

** The End **


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